


Here, There, and Everywhere

by madziraphale



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brotherly Banter, Emotionally Constipated Thorin, F/M, Female Bilbo, Fili can't talk to girls, Girl Power, Rule 63, Sassy Bilbo, Sisterly Love, Surprises, cute times, fili deserves more love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-02 07:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2803763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madziraphale/pseuds/madziraphale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins and her sister Montbretia (though she prefers Montie) are living peaceful lives in their beloved home of Bag End, but when an old family friend stops in for a visit with some unlikely guests, the Baggins sisters are whisked away on an adventure beyond their wildest dreams. The line of Durin has no idea what they're in for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

40 years ago: The Fell Winter

 

A sharp, bloodcurdling howl startled Bilbo out of her peaceful slumber. She wrapped her small form tightly in her quilt, and shuffled quickly towards her parents’ room, where she was sure she would find Bungo and Belladonna Baggins in their bed, as well as the warm spot between them open for her to snuggle into. Instead, when she had reached the table marking the half-way point from her own room to her parents’, a loud thump against the door made her freeze in her tracks. That thump was followed quickly by another. This continued until the wolf (Bilbo knew that’s what it had to be) on the other side of the door realized its tactics were futile, deciding instead to scratch at the door, causing it to rattle on its hinges.

“Mother?” Bilbo called quietly, for fear her voice would only provoke the unwanted visitor. When she received no response, she tried again, this time a little louder.

“Mother? Father?” Still, the young hobbit heard only the scratching at the door. Finally, the incessant noise ceased, and Bilbo was about to continue her way towards that cozy spot in the bed when the thump came again, this time followed by the splintering sound of the wood of the door. 

“Mother!” Bilbo yelled this time, plastering her back against the wall behind her. 

A series of slamming sounds joined the noise from outside, and Bungo and Belladonna stormed from their bedroom, each wielding a gardening tool like a sword. 

“Bilbo, dear heart, are you-“ Bungo began just as the door burst inward, wood chips flying in along with a large drift of snow and the biggest creature Bilbo had ever laid eyes on. The wolf stood snarling, glaring down Belladonna, who had taken a defensive stance in front of her family. 

“Away with you, beast, or I shall have to take drastic measures,” Bilbo’s mother snarled back just as fiercely. The wolf gave no pause. It took a step forward, fangs bared. Bilbo’s eyes widened at the sight of her father moving to stand protectively in front of his two darling girls. 

“Bungo, dear-“ 

“Not now, love,” he replied over his shoulder, stealing a quick glance at his wife, “I’ve gotten this rare wind of bravery and I don’t intend to waste it. Now,” he continued, “you, monster, will go back to wherever it was you came from, else I will have to use this gardening tool improperly, and Yavanna knows how I’d _hate_ to do that.” Belladonna let out a light chuckle, and Bilbo’s eyes only widened further. As she clung to her mother’s leg, something moving behind the wolf’s left hid leg caught Bilbo’s attention. 

“Mother,” she whispered, tugging softly on her mother’s sleeve, then harder when she noticed what appeared to be a head of blonde hair peek out from behind the wolf’s back knee.

“Mother! Mother, there’s a child! Behind the wolf!” That caught Belladonna’s attention, and, apparently, the wolf’s as well. Its low growling stopped, and it turned its head to nudge the blond head in front of it. A fauntling, smaller than any Bilbo had seen that could walk, toddled into the space between Bungo and the wolf. Before she knew what was happening, Bilbo felt herself rising from where she was crouched, slowly making her way towards the young one. Her father noticed before her mother, who was still gaping at the blonde fauntling, which was trying to hide itself deep in the folds of its worn gray cloak. 

“Bilbo!” he called, reaching to stop her but only coming back with a handful of quilt. The wolf began to snarl again, but the fauntling turned towards it, putting a gentle hand on the creature’s muzzle and smiling. The snarling stopped. Bilbo continued her approach. 

“H-hello there,” she chattered to the little hobbit, which now had its full attention on her, eyes the deepest shade of blue staring directly into Bilbo’s. She smiled. 

“It’s okay,” Bilbo held out her hand, “I’m not going to hurt you, little one.” At this, the fauntling gave her (for Bilbo was sure the little hobbit was a girl) own smile, gap-toothed and brilliant. She all but leapt into Bilbo’s arms, and giggled out a “bye-bye!” When Bilbo and her family tore their gaze from the fauntling, the wolf was gone. 

 

Bungo had somehow managed to put the remains of their red door back into place, just enough to provide a barrier from the cold until he could carve a new one. Bilbo was now sitting on the couch in front of a roaring fire, watching the fauntling flip gently through one of Belladonna’s adventure books. Her mother busied herself in the kitchen with warm cider for them all. 

“Do you have a name?” Bilbo asked, really getting a look at the little thing. She seemed normal, Bilbo mused, but she was missing one very distinct hobbit aspect: she had no noticeable hair on her feet. The fauntling shook her head ‘no’ at Bilbo’s question, just as Belladonna walked into the living room with a tray of cider mugs followed closely by Bungo. 

“Here, little one, drink up,” Belladonna said, handing one of Bilbo’s old fauntling-sized mugs to their new arrival. The little creature quickly took it giving it a sniff. She crinkled her freckled nose, but guzzled the warm liquid quickly regardless.  

“Mother, she doesn’t have a name, or, by the looks of it, a home. What are we going to do?” Bilbo felt panic rise up in her chest. This little creature was lost, likely alone in this big old world, her parents’ lives likely claimed by the very creature who delivered her to Bag End. 

“Well, now,” Bungo hummed, rising from his place on the couch, blowing smoke rings from his pipe, “if she’s going to live here, she’s going to need a name. But first, let’s get this damp cloak off of her.” Bungo reached towards the fauntling, but, before he could remove her cloak, the little creature squeaked, fanning her garment around her like wings. Bilbo gasped. 

The inner lining of the cloak started deep red in the towards the lining, and grew slowly more golden on its way towards the center. 

“Like a montbretia blossom,” Belladonna murmured, a smile clear in her voice. The fauntling blushed and giggled. 

“Then Montbretia it is, my love,” Bungo said, his gentle smile coaxing one out of Bilbo as well when the information dawned on her. She was going to be a big sister!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, dear readers! I hope you all enjoyed this tidbit of what is turning out to be a rather long (though incredibly fun to write) tale. I try to update as frequently as I can. This is my first major story ever, so any helpful comments would be welcome and appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

40 Years Later

 

“Montie! If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times, you can’t simply go through Master Brandybuck’s orchard and take your favorite apples home with you!” Bilbo put an exasperated hand on her hip, frowning disapprovingly at her younger sister. Montbretia tried to look well-scolded, really, she did, but all she could stare and smile at was the bit of apple pie crust clinging to the corner of her sister’s frown. Bilbo sighed.

“ _What_ am I going to do with you? You remind me more and more of mother every day, Yavanna rest her soul,” they both smiled sadly and fondly at the thought of their mother, who was now gone ten years this past winter; their father a few weeks after his beloved. 

“Well, it seems you enjoy my antics enough, judging by how quickly my pie went,” Montie gave a cheeky grin, and Bilbo couldn’t help but laugh as she wiped her mouth.  

“All right then, fine, I’ll admit, I never could resist your pies. But can you blame me?” The younger hobbit pushed her round spectacles up the bridge of her nose, blushing. 

“Care to join me outside for a smoke?” Bilbo asked, heading towards the shelf next to the fireplace, grabbing each of their pipes and snuffboxes, already knowing her sister’s answer. They sat on the bench in their front yard, the last thing Bungo had made before Belladonna’s illness had fully set in. They had a smoke ring competition as they always did at their mid-morning smoke, simply enjoying each other’s company in silence. Montie had her eyes closed, reveling in the sunlight, when she heard Bilbo speak. 

“Good morning,” Bilbo, sounding more than a little confused, said to the man standing on their front walk. He was tall, even taller than the men that came from Bree to do business, and he was dressed in dingy gray from head to foot, including his long beard.  

Montie ignored most of their conversation. The bearded man was giving her a headache with all his talk of what type of morning it really was. She did, however, snap to attention when he mentioned knowing Belladonna. 

“You knew our mother?” she asked, immediately thirsty for knowledge. Was he one of the friends their mother had met on an adventure? Had he come to take them on one as well? The man turned, seeming to see Montie for the first time. She squinted at him again, really getting the chance to look at him. Once she noticed the tall point on the top of his hat, she couldn’t help the elated squeal that erupted from her mouth. 

“You’re a wizard, aren’t you?” Montie felt Bilbo’s glare, but she ignored it in favor of the wizard’s small smile. His grey eyes held a mysterious twinkle that sparked Montie’s curiosity. 

“Quite perceptive, Miss Baggins. Quite perceptive indeed. I am Gandalf the Gray, at your service,” he gave a slight bow, which Montie returned in kind. She liked this Gandalf, she decided. 

“Montie, dear, I forgot to start on the scones for tea this afternoon. Would you mind baking them? Just for today?” Montie’s mouth was half open in protest when she caught the her sister’s strained smile and “don’t argue with me” eyes. The younger Baggins let out a heavy sigh, politely excused herself, and trotted back through the round green door. Once she heard the door shut behind her, Montie gave a deep harrumph, and stomped off towards the kitchen. _Bebother and confusticate you, Bilbo,_ she inwardly grumbled, _always making me miss out on everything interesting._

Montie went through the tasks of preparing tea on autopilot, her mind wandering to the wizard who was just outside her door. What in all of Hobbiton could he possibly want? More importantly, why didn’t she get to know? 

Time passed quickly as Montie stewed in her thoughts, and before she knew it, she heard the sound of the front door to the smial open and close and Bilbo calling out to her about the tea. Montie brought the tea tray and scones into their parlor, but quickly excused herself and her snack to her bedroom, where she had the full array of her mother’s adventure books to do research on any gray wizard.

She poured over tales from authors of all the races for hours on end, though not a single one mentioned a Gandalf the Gray. She would have continued her search if Bilbo hadn’t knocked at her door to inform her that supper was ready. Only then did Montie feel the emptiness in her stomach and notice the practically untouched tea and scone she had brought with her. Sighing in defeat, Montie rose from the floor, with an ache from sitting in the same position for so long, and ambled out towards the dining room. Bilbo was just putting the last of the dishes on the table when a loud knock sounded through the smial. 

“I wonder who in Middle Earth that could be, knocking at this hour!” Bilbo huffed, causing Montie to roll her eyes. Typical Bilbo, she thought, always so concerned with propriety. 

“Stay here and wait while I see who it is,” Bilbo glanced at her sister warningly and promptly made her way to the front. A catlike grin found its way to Montie’s face, and she slowly crept out of the dining room, peaking from behind the doorframe so Bilbo wouldn’t see her. Her eyes widened when Bilbo opened the door and a massive…dwarf? brushed past the confused hobbit with a brusque: “Dwalin, at your service,” and a bow. Bilbo looked as though she was about to respond (rather crossly, Montie noticed, by the frustrated frown and the crinkle in her sister’s eye), but when Bilbo noticed Montie poking her head out from the dining room, she motioned her younger sister towards the hall closet, frantically mouthing for her to get inside. 

When the dwarf made his way to the kitchen in search of food, Bilbo rushed Montie, shoving her not-so-gently into the closet and pushing a chair up against the doorknob to keep it closed. Montie’s eyes went wide and she backed against the wall. _No. No, no, no, no, NO._ She hated the dark, absolutely _loathed_ it. Ever since she came to Bag End as a fauntling, she feared absolute darkness; it made her feel suffocated, like she was drowning and unable to see the surface of the water. She grasped around blindly, praying to Yavanna that she might find the candle and matches that Bilbo kept on the shelf. After what felt like a lifetime, she found the matchbox…only by tripping over the oil lamp she was looking for. 

She continued to fumble in the dark, her hands shaking all the while, until she was able to get a small flame flickering in the lamp. Her shoulders sagged in relief, and she sank down against the back wall of the closet. She put her head in her hands, trying to control her shaky breathing. She noted that her cheeks were damp from tears she didn’t remember shedding. Now that Montie had her wits about her once more, she noticed crashing and banging and…singing? She scrunched her brows and marched over to press her ear to the door. Bilbo didn’t sing. Ever. But the voices outside sounded distinctly male. How many more dwarves had shown up while she locked in? Did this have something to do with whatever Bilbo and Gandalf had discussed earlier? The singing ended in a fit of laughter which was punctuated by loud knock on the front door. Montie strained to hear exactly what was being said on the other side, but all she could make out were muffled sounds. 

_This is getting ridiculous,_ she thought. With her frustration at the forefront of her mind, Montie began to furiously jiggle the doorknob, hoping to dislodge the chair that held her captive. When that didn’t work, she backed up to the wall, minding her oil lamp, and set herself up for a charge. She put her glasses in her waistcoat pocket, stretched her legs, and hurled herself at a spot near the doorknob. She wobbled backwards on her recovery, but quickly moved to check her progress by jimmying the door handle. Yavanna was on her side, it seemed, because the door creaked lightly as it opened to the soft glow of Bag End’s front room. Montie blinked to adjust to the light and sighed contentedly, thankful to be out of the darkness. Her quick moment of reprieve was short-lived, however, when she remembered her original reason for wanting to escape the hall closet, and after straightening her waistcoat, floral skirt, and white blouse, placing her glasses back on, and running a hand haphazardly through her unkempt mop of golden locks, she crept with distinct hobbit stealth towards the doorway of the dining room. 

She peaked just about half of her face around the doorframe, finally getting a look at all the dwarves assembled around her dining room table, counting thirteen in all—fourteen guests, if she included Gandalf. Her eyes wandered from dwarf to dwarf, marveling at the sight of the race she had only read about and seen in books. Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt when she spotted two younger dwarves sitting next to one another. One, a brunette, was rather tall for his race, though he seemed more youthful and carefree than the blonde sitting next to him, especially due to his lack of a beard. Montie found she couldn’t quite look away from the blonde dwarf. He was smiling, laughing at something said by one of his brethren at the table, and the sight made Montie’s breath hitch. He had a beautiful laugh. He, like the rest of them, was dressed in layers of furs and dark, earthy colors. She giggled a bit at his braided mustache, but marveled at the beads near the ends. 

She was shaken out of her revery when the normal hum of conversation was interrupted by a deep, thunderous voice talking about Bilbo (who Montie hadn’t even noticed cowering next to Gandalf). She traced the sound back to a slightly greying dark-haired dwarf, sporting ice-blue eyes and two braids on the side of his head. He looked gruff yet stately and strikingly handsome, and his voice immediately commanded his comrades’ attention. It took Montie a moment of studying him to really pay attention to what he was saying. 

“A burglar? She looks more like a grocer than a burglar.” The condescension was clear in his voice. 

“Grocer?” came Bilbo’s affronted reply from next to Gandalf, and soon her voice was lost in the incessant chatter of the rest of the table. Then, Gandalf stood abruptly, startling the entirety of them with his booming voice. 

“Enough!” he roared, “If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar she is! Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose, and while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of a dwarf, the scent of a hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage. Thorin Oakenshield, you asked me to find additional members for this company, and I have chosen Miss Baggins. There's a lot more to her than appearances suggest. And she's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including herself.” The room fell eerily silent. 

_Bilbo a…burglar?_ Montie tried not to laugh. _And what’s this about a dragon? Oh, I do hate being out of the loop!_ When she glanced back at the company—as Gandalf called them—she noticed the dark-haired a dwarf, the one Gandalf had called Thorin, speak again.

“Give her the contract,” he said sternly, and Montie watched as a dwarf with a white beard and a grandfatherly face handed her sister a long piece of parchment to read. She looked on in a combination of shock and a hint of admiration as her sister—practical, proper, homebody Bilbo—actually _read_ this adventure contract. It was then that the gravity of the situation hit Montie like a conkers ball to the forehead. _Bilbo_ was going on a real-life, dragon-fighting, treasure-stealing _adventure._ And, by the looks of it, she was going to leave Montie at home. Well, now, _that_ simply wouldn't stand. Throwing all caution to the wind, Montie stepped out from her hiding place and into the doorway of the dining room. 

“Sister dear,” she called to Bilbo, grinning when she felt all the eyes in the room shift to her, “were you honestly considering taking up this little job without bringing me?” The company fell silent again, and Montie took the opportunity to gauge their expressions. She paused when her eyes reached the blonde dwarf, who was looking her up and down—not in the pervasive way that some of the local hobbit lads did, but simply examining her. He had a glint in his eye that Montie had a hard time placing. 

“Montbretia Baggins!” came Bilbo’s scolding voice as she marched across the room from her spot next to Gandalf, “I thought I told you to wait—“ 

“Bilbo,” Montie silenced her sister, “you locked me in the closet. A _completely dark_ closet,  I might add.” That shut Bilbo up. She put her hands on the sides of Montie’s face, looking guiltily into her eyes. 

“Oh, Montie, I’m—“ Bilbo started, but Montie squeezed her eyes shut briefly, then opened them and smiled at her sister, letting her know that all was forgiven. 

“There’s another one?” one of the younger dwarves piped up, his big eyes widened in curiosity. Montie giggled. He reminded her of a young fawn. 

“Hush, Ori!” the white-haired dwarf on his right whispered harshly, “where are your manners?” _Now who does that sound like?_ Montie thought amusedly. 

“Excellent that you joined us, Miss Baggins; simply excellent!” Gandalf stood, ducking past the iron chandelier and placed a friendly and on her shoulder. “Gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to the fifteenth member of this company: Miss Montbretia Baggins.” He gave her shoulder a gentle pat. Bilbo began to splutter. 

“I prefer Montie; Montbretia has such a…spinster feel to it. But, all the same, I am at your service,” she mimicked the greeting of the first dwarf that entered their home, giving a curtsey. Gandalf chuckled in that fatherly way of his. 

“Well, then, Montie, allow me to introduce the company,” he pointed to the dwarves one by one. Montie was highly amused by how they all seemed to rhyme. Oin and Gloin; Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur; Dori, Nori, and Ori; Balin and Dwalin; and Fili and Kili. 

_So, it’s Fili then, is it?_ Montie thought when Gandalf introduced two of the company’s youngest members. He finally came to their leader, introducing him officially as “king under the mountain.” The title immediately set off alarm bells in Montie’s head. 

“You’re going to reclaim Erebor, aren’t you?” the entire room stiffened. 

“How-how did you…?” the young brunette—Kili, she corrected herself—looked utterly astonished. His brother simply smiled at Montie, making her cheeks turn pink as her floral skirt. Before she could speak, however, Bilbo answered for her.

“She reads a lot of adventure books,” she sounded cross, and Montie knew why before Bilbo even said it. 

“Bilbo, there’s no way you’re going on this adventure; not without me, anyway. And besides,” Montie gave her a sly look, “there’s no way I’m letting the Shire’s most eligible bachelorette go practically unchaperoned with a group of thirteen dwarrows.” Bilbo spluttered again, her cheeks going a bright shad of red. 

“I’m, well, I’m _hardly_ a…” Montie loved getting her sister flustered; it was her favorite hobby second only to going “adventuring”—as she liked to call her traipsing around Hobbiton—and reading. Bilbo gathered her wits and continued.

“Montie, dear, _I’m_ not even going on this ‘adventure’ ads you seem so fond of calling it,” she said, though she went on reading the extensive contract, “I mean, can you believe this? 'The present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof, including, but not limited to…lacerations, evisceration…incineration?’” she read, growing pale. 

“Aye, lass!” the dwarf with the funny hat chirped from his seat; Bofur, if Montie was correct, “Smaug’ll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye!” his cheerful smile meant he was only trying to be informative, but Bilbo most definitely didn’t see it that way. The grandfatherly dwarf, Balin (Montie smiled at yet another correct guess at a name), glanced at Bilbo with concern.

“You all right, lassie?” he asked. 

“Hmm? Oh, yes, I…I just feel a bit…” Bilbo took a calming breath, “just a bit faint.” Montie’s brow furrowed in concern as she moved towards her sister.

“Think furnace with wings!” Bofur called again, not helping the situation any, “A flash of light, searing pain, then puff! You're nothing more than a pile of ash!” All Bilbo managed to croak out was a “no” before she collapsed into Montie’s arms. 

“Bilbo!” Montie cried as her sister’s limp form careened into hers, causing them both to fall to the floor. 

“Oh, wonderful job, Bofur; simply excellent,” Gandalf groaned. He scooped Bilbo off of Montie and quickly carried the unconscious hobbit to the living room. Montie brushed herself off, straightened her waistcoat where it was falling off her shoulder, and came face-to-face with the proffered hand of Fili, who had that amused twinkle in his eyes. 

“Are you okay, Miss Baggins?” he asked, hoisting her up when she clutched his hand. She blushed a little at its warmth. “I wanted to more formally introduce myself. I am Prince Fili, son of Vili, heir of the line of Durin, at your service,” he bowed low, still holding her hand but—to Montie’s unprecedented (in her own opinion) disappointment—not kissing it. 

_Montbretia,_ she scolded herself, _don’t even go there._ She noticed, at that point, they were both studying each other, and Fili had yet to let go of her hand. 

“Brother, please, don’t hog the beautiful maiden all to yourself,” Kili playfully bumped his brother’s hip with his own, shooting Montie a charming smile and causing Fili to frown slightly and release his grip on her hand. Montie was too busy blushing to notice Kili glance at his brother, who, in turn, was too busy trying not to look annoyed to notice Kili’s look.

“Prince Kili at your service,” Kili was more brazen then his older brother, and kissed Montie’s hand as he bowed. Montie smiled at the two of them. _Definitely brothers,_ she thought.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintances, your majesties,” she responded with a grin of her own, “and I do apologize for my sister’s untimely…leave of absence.” They all chuckled at that. 

“Speaking of which, if you’ll both excuse me, I’d like to go see how Bilbo is fairing after using me to break her fall,” again they smiled, and Montie turned and sashayed out of the room, not noticing the stares of both heirs of Durin on her as she left. 

“I wanted to more formally introduce myself…” Kili mocked his brother. Fili blushed slightly and slapped Kili’s arm. 

“It’s called being _polite,_ boulder-for-brains,” Fili responded, “mother always said I was the one with the manners, anyway.” Kili rolled his eyes.

“Mahal’s beard, Fi, it was a joke. Besides,” Kili grinned, waggling his eyebrows, “even a dwarrow with as bad of vision as Oin has hearing could see you already fancy the lass,” Fili’s blush grew, and Kili let out a laugh, “And, to think, mother’s been trying to help you find a wife for years, and it took coming all the way out to the Shire for you to find her.” Fili’s face turned completely red. 

~ ~ ~

Montie had just reached the doorway of the living room and paused, noticing that Gandalf was talking to Bilbo. 

“What happened to that young hobbit who was always running off in search of Elves, in the woods, who would've liked nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire?” he asked her. Montie was shocked, she never knew that her sister had a knack for adventuring, even with the Took blood running through her veins. A frown crept her way onto her face. 

_If Gandalf knew Bilbo when she was younger, that must mean she stopped exploring after I came around,_ Montie thought, ashamed that she may’ve been the cause of her sister’s fuddy-duddy personality. 

“Did you know that your great, great, great, great uncle Bullroarer Took, was so large he could ride a real horse?” Gandalf continued. Montie was in awe. 

“What about Montie, Gandalf,” Bilbo said, staring at the floor, “I can’t leave her here to care for Bag End on her own, nor would I ever want to put her in such perils as this adventure would bring.” It was then that Gandalf motioned Montie to come in from her spot at the door, as if he’d known she’d been their all along. More than likely, he had. 

“I do believe that’s something I should decide for myself, Bilbo,” Montie said gently, approaching her blanket-wrapped sister and cozying up to her side on the couch. It felt like they were both fauntlings again. 

“Montie, we’re Bagginses, we…we can’t,” Bilbo seemed like she was having a hard time convincing herself. She took a deep breath and looked at Gandalf.

“I’m sorry, Gandalf, but you’ve got the wrong hobbits.” Montie stiffened, enraged. She couldn’t be serious! 

“Bilbo! This is the chance I’ve been waiting my whole for! And, from what Gandalf has said, so have you! We can’t miss it!” Montie could hear the rising pitch in her voice. 

“Montbretia, I said NO!” Bilbo yelled. Bilbo _never_ yelled. Montie felt tears prick her eyes, and she pushed away from her sister and rushed out the front door, sitting on top of their smial by the open window of the kitchen. Over the sound of her quiet sobs, she caught a draft of a deep, beautiful voice that she realized could come from only one dwarf: Thorin. Soon, the other dwarves joined in. 

They sang of their lost home and treasures, of the massacre and destruction left by the dragon. Montie’s tears increased for them, for their sorrow and their grief. It was then she decided, whether Bilbo was going or not, Montie Baggins of Hobbiton was not missing out on this adventure.


	3. Chapter 3

Montie barely slept that night; she was busy deciding on what she should and shouldn’t bring, and she most certainly didn’t want the dwarves to leave without her. She had just finished her good-bye letter to Bilbo when she heard the sounds of shuffling coming from the front room of Bag End. She squealed, then slapped her hand over her mouth at how unladylike she sounded, then decided again that she didn’t give a Took’s bum for that. She was going on an adventure! She quickly gathered her pack, snagging the letter off of her writing desk and placing it next to the contract on the dining room table as she made her way to the foyer. The dwarves were chatting quietly, but the noise came to an abrupt stop when she entered, all smiles and giddy energy. 

“Ah, Miss Baggins! I’m so glad—“ 

“She’s not the burglar,” Thorin interrupted Gandalf. All eyes flew from Montie to the dwarf king. 

“While I am not _the_ burglar, Thorin Oakenshield, I am, nevertheless, _a_ burglar, and, since my sister didn’t feel the desire to join your company, I have come in her stead,” Montie stood tall—as tall as she could in a crowd of beings all at least half a foot taller than she—and tried to look confident. She didn’t notice Fili’s awe-struck expression amongst the rest of the company’s incredulous looks. 

“Now, Thorin, I did promise you a hobbit burglar, and a good wizard always keeps his promises,” Gandalf responded, smile evident in his voice, “Now, I do believe it is time we were off.” And, with that, the company filed orderly out of the front door, retrieved their ponies from the local stable, and were off. Montie barely had time to take one last glance at the green front door. 

* * *

 

They had been on the road an hour or so, plodding along on their ponies, and Montie was starting to feel guilt creep through her at the thought of Bilbo waking up at home alone. 

“Miss Baggins…?” she heard a timid voice ask. It was Ori, looking at her shyly from atop his pony, clutching a book close to his chest, “are you…are you feeling okay?” Montie smiled warmly at him. He was an absolute _dear._

“Just Montie, please. And I’ll be all right, Ori. I’m just worried for Bilbo. She’s never been on her own since mother and father passed and—“ Montie choked up a little at the thought of her parents. Ori seemed to panic, thinking he’d said something wrong, and steered his pony away, embarrassed. Montie sighed, took a deep breath to stop her tears, and was about to call Ori back to apologize when she heard the sound of very familiar yelling growing louder from behind the trees. 

“Wait! Wait!” Bilbo cried, bursting through the trees, skirt and contract flailing out behind her, “I signed it! Here’s the contract! Now, where is Montie?” As soon as Montie saw Bilbo coming, she leapt from atop her pony and bounded towards her sister. 

“I knew it! I just _knew_ you’d come,” Montie called, hurdling directly into her sister and bringing them both to the ground. When they stood up, laughing along with many of the dwarves, they both had happy tears in their eyes. 

“Oh, bebother it all!” Bilbo gave a wobbly laugh, “I’m doing all this crying and I forgot a pocket handkerchief! If you all could wait here, I’ll just go back and get a few, they should still be hanging outside on the line…” 

“No time for that. Get her a pony,” Thorin interrupted their happy reunion. He continued to ride ahead, but as Bofur brought Bilbo’s pony, he ripped a piece of his shirt off and handed it to her.

“You can use this as a handkerchief, lass!” Montie couldn’t hold in her laugh at Bilbo—trying and failing to look as grateful as she could—taking the raggedy scrap of fabric from the cheerful dwarf. 

“We’ve no time for pocket hankies, Bilbo!” Montie cried, grasping her sister’s hands and doing a twirl in the grass, “We’re going on an adventure!” 

* * *

 

It took Bilbo a bit of time to get used to her pony—which really put Bofur’s makeshift hankie to the test—but when she did, Montie could already tell that little Myrtle had quickly found her way into Bilbo’s heart. 

They spent most of the day chatting with Gandalf, listening to him recount the adventures of Tooks gone before them. After a particularly wild story about a P. Huxtable Took (whom neither Bilbo or Montie had ever heard mentioned before), Montie felt a quick nudge to her side from Bilbo’s direction. She shot Bilbo a glare, which her sister returned with a simple gesture to look around them. 

“It seems we’ve attracted an audience with our family tales,” she said, smiling a smile like Montie hadn’t seen in years: one that reminded the young hobbit of herself. Following her sister’s command, Montie clandestinely peered around at the company, noticing outright Bofur, Ori, Kili, and Fili’s complete enthrallment in the new tale Gandalf was beginning. Towards the front of the group, she could see the somewhat strained postures of some of the company’s older members, who were listening in as well, though trying to be a tad more discreet. Gandalf’s soothing voice was cut off by Thorin’s low rumble from the head of the group. 

“We’ll be camping just up here for the night,” he stated, gesturing to a clearing up ahead. She hadn’t realized how dark it had gotten; nevertheless, Montie was thrilled. She’d never had any sort of outdoor sleeping experience outside of the few times she had forced Bilbo to have a night out under the stars, where they’d tell stories well into the night. The company came to a clearing, and immediately the dwarves were busy gathering materials for a fire and scouting an area for the ponies. Montie was so enthralled with the view, she hadn’t noticed Fili approach her pony until he cleared his throat. She shook her head and stared down at the young prince. 

“Would you care for some assistance down, Miss Baggins?” he asked, a charming smile set on his face as he held his hand out to her. Montie blushed and smiled.

“That would be nice, thank you, Master Fili,” she took the proffered hand, relishing in it’s warm, firm grip, as he gently pulled her off her pony. Her floral skirt blew up a bit on her way down, and her blush immediately darkened. She didn’t notice that Fili’s had as well. For the second time since their meeting, Fili had forgotten to let go of her hand. It seemed that Montie had forgotten, too. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze to get his attention. His head snapped up at the first sign of pressure.

“I, um…” she began, “just Montie is fine, Master Fili, really. ‘Miss Baggins’ is reserved for my sister,” she gestured over to where her sister was sitting, after Gandalf had helped her dismount from her pony. She trailed her eyes quickly to Thorin’s hulking form to notice him staring at Bilbo. 

_Well,_ Montie thought, _that’s definitely something to continue watching for._ She had to admit, Bilbo did look rather lovely in the light of the setting sun. Montie had always wondered why her sister never married; she prayed to Yavanna that her sister didn’t feel some obligation to stay single just to care for her. Montie could never forgive herself if that was the case. 

“Don’t mind Uncle,” Fili stated, noticing that Montie’s gaze had landed on the brooding dwarf king, “He gets into these ‘intimidating King Under the Mountain’ moods. He could sit like that for hours if we left him unattended.” 

They both chuckled at that. They were still holding hands. 

“Oy! Lover-dwarf!” Kili called from a wooded area to their left, “Get your lazy bum moving and help us out here! You’ll have time to be all blush-y with Miss Boggins later!” Fili hung his head in embarrassment, and Montie giggled like a schoolgirl. He released Montie’s hand, lingered for a moment, and dashed off into the woods. His exit behind the tree line was followed by sounds of a scuffle and muffled yelps and shouts of anger. 

_I guess boys are all the same, whatever their race_ , Montie thought, shaking her head and making her way over to Bilbo, who was now chatting with Bombur about what she thought were the proper spices to make meat pies. 

“Mother always told me: bland meat pies make for a bland life,” Bilbo chuckled, “and, I can assure you, our meat pies were _never_ bland.” 

“It’s true,” Montie added, plopping down next to her sister, and leaning a bit on her shoulder, “life with Belladonna Baggins was always a little adventure.” Bilbo smiled warmly at her sister, but concern shone at the corners of her eyes. 

“You’re not feeling sore from the pony ride? Any allergies or scratches or grumbles in your tummy?” Bilbo tickled Montie’s stomach at the last statement. Both hobbits were plump, simply because that’s how hobbits are meant to be—especially with their daily meal habits. 

“Well, considering we didn’t stop for second breakfast, elevenses, afternoon tea, _and_ dinner, I’d have to say I’m doing fantastically,” Montie laughed as Bilbo groaned. 

“Excuse me, Miss Baggins, but exactly _how_ many meals do hobbits eat each day?” Ori piped up from seemingly out of thin air (which actually turned out to be behind Bombur’s rotund form). He had a quill hovering over his leather tome, ready to strike at the first sound out of either Baggins’s mouth. 

“Seven, of course. Same as every other hobbit,” Bilbo replied smoothly, though she flinched when Oin dropped all of the firewood he was carrying.

“Seventy! Mahal’s beard! It’s a wonder the two of you lasses aren’t bursting at the seams!” Oin cried, his mouth opened in shock. Gloin rolled his eyes as he stopped next to his brother, slapping Oin’s arm with the back of his hand.

“Not _seventy_ , ya old coot, _seven_ meals,” Gloin practically yelled at his brother, who was starting to look cross, “What’ve I told ye about contributing to conversations when ye don’t have yer ear horn?” Everyone laughed and Oin harrumphed and left his firewood for his brother to pick up. 

“Would you, would you mind explaining in more detail about your meals, Miss Baggins…if it’s not too much trouble, I mean,” Ori asked softly, twiddling his quill between his fingers and sheepishly looking down at his book. Bilbo and Montie both smiled at the young dwarrow, and Bilbo beckoned him to come closer from where he sat behind Bombur. He reluctantly complied and settled down in front of the Baggins sisters. 

“Now, let’s start out with the makings of a proper breakfast…” Bilbo went off into another world, it seemed, as she described the makings of the ideal hobbit meals. Even Montie, who had lived with these eating habits for as long as she could remember, was enraptured by her sister’s descriptions. By the time Bilbo had begun her discussion on supper, Montie looked up to find the enthralled faces of the entire company, including Gandalf, listening intently around the roaring fire in the center of their camp. Even Thorin seemed to have moved in a little closer from his spot on a nearby boulder. 

“But, if I had to pick any dessert to complete my day, I’d look no further then one of Montie’s baked goodies, especially her apple crumble pie,” Montie hadn’t even noticed Bilbo was complimenting her until Gandalf spoke.

“Well, I do hope at some point in our journey we will get the opportunity to sample some of Miss Montbretia’s pie.” The entire company stated their agreement in various murmurs and cheers. Montie blushed.

“All this talk of food has left me famished!” Bofur cried from his seat next to his cousin, who mumbled something in the ancient dwarven tongue. “Bifur’s hungry too!” Bofur added. 

“Settle down, lads!” Bombur scolded, waving his ladle at his brother and cousin menacingly, “Or you’ll be the last to be served. Now, the stew is just about ready, but since she helped so much with the recipe—and of course, stickin’ with proper mannerisms an’ all that—the Miss Bagginses will be goin’ before all you lumps…” the large dwarf paled a little when he saw Thorin’s glare, “…and future Kings Under the Mountain, of course!” he added quickly. Thorin’s glare lessened to a pointed look. 

When they had all had their fill of stew, the company sat around the fire, telling stories and singing songs. Montie absolutely loved it. She swayed along to all the dwarven songs and tried to catch on to the verses when she could. It took her a bit, but Bilbo joined in on the merrymaking as well, even joining Montie in teaching the company a few hobbit songs. Many of the tunes were lively party songs, but the last was a ballad, soft, slow, and full of emotion. 

Bilbo had a beautiful singing voice, a fact not many outside of her immediate family knew. When she was younger, she would occasionally sing at parties—usually weddings for relatives—but the times she sang simply to sing were few and far between.

Montie glanced around the campfire. The Company seemed to be in a trance-like state. Many of them had their heads resting in their hands. Kili was leaning so far forward in seat on a fallen tree that Montie feared he’d fall off. Even stoic Dwalin seemed to be calmed by Bilbo’s song. The real sight to see, however, was Thorin. He, looking eerily similar to his nephew, had his head resting in his hands, but there was something in his eyes besides the sparkle of firelight. 

_He looks like a love-struck tween,_ Montie smiled at Thorin’s expression, something mixed between admiration, shock, awe, and confusion. It took them all a moment to recover after Bilbo’s song; the only sound that finally pierced the silence was a sharp howl in the distance. Bilbo and Montie immediately tensed. 

“What was that?” Bilbo asked, unconsciously scooting closer to Gandalf. 

“Orcs,” Kili stated casually. Fear gripped Montie’s heart. Though she’d only read about them in books, orcs absolutely terrified her; she’d had recurring nightmares of them ever since she was a fauntling. Montie shivered and quickly made her way towards her sister and Gandalf when another howl sounded. The noise seemed to finally shake Thorin out of his daydreams.

“Throat-cutters, to be precise,” Fili added, “there should be dozens of ‘em down there, creeping around in the lowlands.” Kili gave him a very discreet sideways glance, which Fili returned with a subtle wink.

“They always strike around the wee hours of the morning,” Kili continued, “so they can catch their prey while it sleeps. No screams, no fighting back, just lots of blood.” Thorin got up from his seat and marched to where his nephews were trying to refrain from snickering at the two hobbit’s terrified reactions. And whacked them upside their heads. The two princes groaned in response.

“You think an orc attack is funny? A cruel joke?” Thorin growled. Fili and Kili both decided that now was a good time to memorize the exact design of their boots in lieu of looking their uncle. 

“We didn’t mean anything by it, honest,” Kili mumbled, giving Thorin his best kicked-puppy look. Unfortunately for him, Thorin was not easily swayed.

“No, you didn’t. You know nothing of this world,” Thorin stated. He angrily lumbered off and mumbled something about checking on the ponies. Dwalin, dutiful as ever, followed him. Ori, who looked visibly shaken, was escorted by a doting Dori and a silently concerned Nori towards his sleeping roll. When a third howl rang out, Montie couldn’t help the squeak that erupted from her mouth as she buried herself into Bilbo’s chest. The remaining dwarves glanced at the two shaking hobbits. When Fili and Kili made eye contact with the older Miss Baggins’s slightly teary glare, they hung their heads in shame. Bilbo took a moment to wipe her eyes and then settled her gaze in the direction Thorin had gone and wondered what had made him so petulant. 

“Pay him no mind, lassie,” Balin said, shaking her out of her thoughts, “he’s got more of a reason to hate those vile beasts than most.” As Balin recounted the tale of how Thorin received the name “Oakenshield,” Montie tentatively raised her head from her sister’s chest to hear. Fili mentally slapped himself when he saw her red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained face. All because of something he said. 

When Balin reached the story’s end, most of the company had returned to the fire, and they were standing, all gazing at their king with the utmost respect. 

“And the Pale Orc?” Bilbo inquired, turning herself to face the King Under the Mountain as well, since Montie had moved from her lap to get a spot closer to Balin, “What happened to him?” 

“That monster crept back from the dark hole from which he came. The filthy beast died of his wounds ages ago,” Bilbo had that doting look on her face as she watched Thorin speak, Montie noticed. It was the one that her sister got when Montie would come back home past dark, covered in twigs and more than a few scrapes from the brambles in the woods, and all Bilbo wanted to do was hug her and hold her in her lap like she used to when they were young. 

Yet another screech pierced the air, and both Montie and Bilbo sat frozen to their spots. Bifur said something in khuzdul, and Bofur nodded at him in understanding. 

“That’s a good point, cousin,” he gave one of his contagious smiles at Bifur and turned to face the hobbit sisters, “What has the two of you lasses all in a tizzy? …If ye don’t mind me askin’ o’ course. I doubt either of ye’ve seen a real, live orc face ta face, and ye’ve got a strong group o’ lads here protcetin’ ye.” Bofur puffed his chest out a bit and winked, causing the sisters to giggle, Gandalf to laugh, and for the rest of the company to roll their eyes and groan. 

“I’ve had nightmares about orcs ever since I can remember,” Montie stated quietly, the most somber the group had seen her since they met, “It’s always the same one: huge, ferocious orcs burning and slashing up an entire town filled with people. All I can hear is screaming and black speech everywhere. It’s cold, snowing. I’m always hiding…under a cart on one of the roads, just…watching. It all seems safe until _it_ sees me.” Montie spit out the word in disgust.

“It’s the same orc, every time. Big, broad and wielding a spiked club. It stalks toward me, weapon raised, and lifts the cart as if it’s a toy and tosses it aside. There are two bodies at my feet, and I-I can never tell who they are,” Montie takes a deep breath, “The last thing I remember is the orc looming over me, ready to step on me or bludgeon me…whatever comes first. That’s when I wake up.” Bilbo wipes a tear off of Montie’s cheek. The younger hobbit laughs. 

“Bizarre, I know. I can’t quite explain it myself. It just feels so… _real,_ ” she shudders. 

“I do believe it’s time you got some sleep, Miss Montbretia,” Gandalf says, placing his hand on Montie’s shoulder a split second before she yawns. This time, they all laugh. 

“You always seem to know, you sly wizard, you,” Bilbo says softly, smiling up at the grey wizard. He returns it wholeheartedly. As Bilbo stands to walk off with her sister, Gandalf puts his hand up to stop her. 

“Miss Baggins, how about I go with Montie to help her set up her bed roll?” he offers then leans down to whisper, “Besides, it seems our traveling companions are eager to hear what has you so troubled.” At this, Bilbo glanced around the circle, noting that all of the dwarves watched her with expectant faces. Bilbo looks at Montie, who simply smiles at her sister and nods in the opposite direction of the company. Confused, Bilbo turns, only to be faced with the company’s leader, looking for all the world like a hopeful child. However, as quickly as the hobbit had turned, so did his expression, and he was back to the dour and serious King Under the Mountain. 

“And Gandalf,” Montie continued, placing her small, plump hand on the one the wizard had on her shoulder, “I’ll be perfectly all right by myself. I’m a fully grown hobbit, thank-you-very-much.” She gave him a crooked grin, and bid them all good night, sauntering with slightly less flare than she’d had the previous evening towards the spot she and Bilbo had picked for their bedrolls: an alcove near the fire that kept the heat and was backed by a large rock. 

Fili’s eyes followed her the entire time. Kili had to whack his older brother back into reality so that he wouldn’t miss Bilbo’s story. 

“Fi, you’re being _much_ too obvious,” Kili snarked, grinning at Fili’s flustered expression, “now, pay attention, Miss Boggins—“ 

“It’s _Baggins,_ for the _thousandth_ time, Ki—” “

“Miss _Baggins’s_ story. I have a feeling it’s about your favorite hobbit,” Kili waggled his brows. 

_Mahal help me,_ Fili thought, _If he does that_ one _more time, I’m shaving his eyebrows clean off his face._ The amusing thought was enough to pacify Fili for the time being. He turned his attention to Bilbo, who was recounting the winter night that Montie first came to Bag End. Fili couldn’t believe it. He glanced over at the young hobbit’s sleeping form in her roll, her back steadily rising and falling with each breath. He sighed and smiled. She was brave, charming, caring, loyal, not to mention beautiful, despite her beardlessness… He thought a moment, and then he frowned a bit. He was really in too deep already, and they’d barely spent a whole day together. 

“It’s a funny thing, really,” Bilbo stated, pulling Fili out of his thoughts, “Montie has always had a way with animals. Be they the wolves that brought her to Bag End or the rabbits that are always stealing carrots from Old Hamwise Gamgee’s garden. They really take a shine to her, and she to them.” Bilbo yawned, quickly covering her mouth with her hand. 

She stood slowly, languidly stretching, and a bit of her blouse came untucked from the back of her skirt, exposing just a smidgen of back. Thorin’s eyes widened slightly, but he quickly ducked his head to compose himself. He couldn’t deny he thought she was rather pretty, even for a halfling; however, the fact that she had joined them on this mission made her slightly less appealing. He cleared his throat. 

“Right then,” he thanked all the gods that his voice came out as composed as it did, “we all need rest. The day will be long tomorrow. I will take first watch.” With that, Thorin moved farther from the fire to perch himself on one of the taller rocks. He hadn’t noticed that it was the same one that the Baggins sisters had placed their bed rolls against. 

After saying her goodnights, Bilbo headed towards her sister, stopping suddenly when she noticed Thorin on top of the boulder with his back towards the fire. She gave a small smile and blushed slightly, though she didn’t know the reason behind the second. 

“Well, aren’t we special indeed?” she asked smartly, her smile growing as she noticed him jump slightly. He turned to face her, ever-present scowl on his face, yet, there was the smallest spark of amusement in his eyes. 

“We get the special protection of the King Under the Mountain all for ourselves,” she continued, noticing the slightly surprised expression that quickly flashed across his face, “But, really,” she continued a bit more timidly, “I am glad that you chose to keep watch so close by…for Montie’s sake, mostly…” she added quietly, staring at her hairy feet. Thorin was glad that the darkness hid most of his blush.

“This was simply the best vantage point from which to see the surrounding area,” he stated gruffly, trying to sound authoritative and nonchalant. The smile immediately disappeared from Bilbo’s face, and he missed it as soon as it was gone.

“Good night, your majesty,” she curtseyed, refusing to make eye contact with him, and she practically stomped the rest of the way to her spot next to her sister. Thorin said nothing in response. He was slightly angry with himself, though he knew his actions were appropriate. He had a quest to think about, after all, and the lives of his men—and his sister’s sons—in his hands. The way Bilbo Baggins’s eyes sparkled when she smiled and the sound of her laugh and how (dare he say, charming?) she looked when her face grew pink in embarrassment or frustration should be the last of his concerns. They were the only things he pondered on through most of his watch. 


	4. Chapter 4

A few days into traveling, as the company woke, it had begun to drizzle. They had to make due with some dried meats and fruits for breakfast since the fire had died out with the rain. They never heard the end of it from Bombur. As the day continued, so did the rain, and the slight drizzle turned into a torrential downpour and continued all through lunch, leaving the company soggy and sullen. Still they trudged on, relatively silently, until Dori spoke, sounding something like a disgruntled proper lady. 

“Wizard!” he called to Gandalf, who was about four or five ponies ahead of him, “is there any way you can stop this abhorrent storm?” Gandalf replied almost instantly.

“It is raining, master dwarf,” he began as if speaking to a small child, “and it will continue raining whether you wish it to or not. If you’d like to change matters of the weather, then you should have brought along a different wizard.”

“Are there?” Bilbo asked suddenly, pushing Myrtle to move a tad faster so she could catch up to Gandalf, “Other wizards, I mean.” 

“Oh, certainly, Bilbo,” the wizard replied with a smile, “we total five in number. The most powerful of our order is Saruman, the white. Then there are two blue wizards—whose names I never am able to remember.”

“Who’s the fifth?” Montie chimed in from a little farther back. She was trying to have a conversation with Ori and Nori over the sound of the rain and thunder. 

“Well,” Gandalf chuckled a little, “that would be Radagast, the Brown.” 

“Is he a great wizard? Or is he more like you?” Bilbo asked, completely serious. The gray wizard frowned a bit, but quickly composed himself. 

“Radagast is a great wizard in his own sort of way,” he mused, “He’s a gentle soul; he keeps watch over the great forests of the East, since he prefers the company of animals to that of others.” Montie smiled at that. 

“I think I’d like this wizard,” she said, “I’d hope to meet him someday.”

Montie had conversations with almost every member of the company by the time the rain stopped in the late afternoon. Everyone except the ever-majestic King Under the Mountain and his faithful guard. Both Thorin and Dwalin seemed in their own world when it came to traveling, speaking quietly among themselves, and occasionally including some of the older dwarves, like Balin or Gloin. Montie was stuck in an…interesting conversation with Dori and Bilbo about the merits of hand-knitted tea cozies when she heard the sound of boisterous laughter from up ahead, and quickly excused herself. Fili and Kili, she noted, were the culprits of the laughter. They were throwing stones they had collected along the road and were testing their arms to see how many pinecones they could knock from the trees. By the looks on their faces, Kili seemed to be winning.

“It’s because you’re an archer,” Fili grumbled, scowling at the back of his pony’s head, “you’re _required_ to have good aim.” 

“Admit it, brother dear,” Kili grinned at his older sibling, “you just can’t aim worth a…”

“Mind if I give it a whirl, lads?” Montie interrupted, guiding her pony, Daffodil, between the two brothers, “I’ve been told I’ve got the best conkers pitching arm in the Shire.” Both dwarves seemed surprised by her sudden entrance, but they both quickly smiled. 

“It would be our honor,” Fili gave her a mock bow and handed her a couple of stones. 

“Take a few of mine, too!” Kili said, handing over some of his own stones, “Some of my good aim likely rubbed off on them, though I’m sure you’d do better than Fi regardless.” Fili frowned when Montie giggled and stuck his tongue out at his younger brother.  

“I assure you, Kili,” she furrowed her brow as she focused on an upcoming cluster of pinecones, “I’ve got all the luck I need.” Before either dwarf could blink, Montie hummed one of her rocks at the pinecones, knocking all seven of them from their spot on the branch and directly onto Dwalin’s head. Montie and the princes cringed. Dwalin stiffened, immediately ceasing his conversation with Gloin, and glanced back towards the trio. 

“Oh my, Master Dwalin!” Montie put her hands up to her mouth in her most convincing shocked expression, “You should’ve seen the size of the squirrel that knocked down those pinecones! It looked more like a house cat if you ask me!” Fili tried to hold back his face-splitting grin and Kili coughed in an attempt to hide his laughter. 

“Huge squirrel, Dwalin. Simply enormous,” was all Fili could choke out. The older dwarf narrowed his eyes a bit and slowly turned back around. Immediately, the hobbit and the dwarven princes burst into hysterical laughter. 

“I—I can’t _believe_ he fell for that!” Kili wheezed, clutching his sides as he rocked back and forth on his pony’s saddle. Montie lost herself in her heartfelt laughter, but was quickly brought back to reality when she snorted. Rather loudly, in fact. And more than once. Immediately her chortles ceased, and her face turned bright red with embarrassment. Kili only laughed harder when he noticed that most of the company had turned to face them; apparently, Montie’s unwonted snort was louder than she had thought. Fili’s laughter died to a light chuckle when he noticed Montie’s mortified expression. Soon, it had stopped completely, and he simply smiled at her. He reached out to tap her on the arm. She turned to face him, the bits of a blush still present on her pale, freckly cheeks, and Fili’s smile grew. He wanted to tell her she had a cute laugh. More than that, she wanted to say she was cute all the time. But, given his track record with the opposite sex, he refrained. No sense putting his foot in his mouth when he’d only known the girl for a little over a week.

“I haven’t laughed that hard in months,” Fili opted to say instead, “not since we left Ered Luin.” Montie gave him a cheerful smile and unconsciously pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. 

“I don’t know, Fili,” Kili smiled at his brother, “I always get a good laugh looking at you.” The younger prince winked at Montie when she glanced his way, and she giggled. 

“Come on now, Kili,” she said, “Fili is rather handsome, if squint _really_ hard in the right lighting.” Montie and Kili began to laugh again, and Fili pouted. 

“Oh, lighten up, Mr. Grumpy Beard! You’re starting to look like Uncle,” Kili teased, tossing one of his smaller stones and hitting his brother’s ear. “Bullseye!” he cheered. Montie noticed how miffed Fili looked and sighed. 

“Hey…Fili?” she asked, leaning towards the elder prince, “If it’s any consolation, I happen to think you’re quite a looker, even if the lighting isn’t that great out here. And, see, look at me,” Montie gestured to her eyes when Fili turned his full attention to her, “I’m not squinting.” The both of them were blushing now. Fili racked his brain for something charming to say, to return the compliment, _something,_ but all he could do was stare at her in awkward appreciation. She frowned a little when he didn’t respond. 

“Oy, wee lass!” came Bofur’s voice as he galloped his pony up to the other side of Fili, “Me an’ some o’ the lads were hopin’ tha’ you could tell us one o’ yer adventure stories. We’re bored out o’ our minds jus’ ridin’ in the quiet.” Montie smiled and looked around when she heard a chorus of agreement; Ori, Gandalf, and even Balin had maneuvered their ponies closer to her and Daffodil, all with eager smiles on their faces. The young hobbit cracked her knuckles. 

“Well, all that talk of oversized squirrels _does_ remind me of one of my favorite stories…”

* * *

 

“…And that’s how the elven servant and his squirrel companions defeated the troll invasion of Rivendell,” Montie’s statement was punctuated by a round of applause from her audience. She bowed as best she could from atop her pony. Up ahead, she noticed that Thorin had stopped, and was surveying the area. The field was relatively open, but the ruins of a barn and a modest home stood menacingly off to the side.

“We’ll camp here for the night,” he stated, leaving no room for argument, “Fili, Kili, you two are in charge of the ponies,” he glanced at the two princes, narrowing his eyes, “and make sure to focus on your task. No lolly-gagging.” Fili put his hand atop his heart.

“Oh, Uncle, your lack of faith wounds me,” he stated while Kili, who’d already hopped off his pony, put his hand to his forehead and flopped onto the grass. Thorin rolled his eyes. Gandalf was farther away from the company, examining the splintered wood that was once a barn door. 

“A family lived here once,” he murmured. Thorin was still giving orders near the center of their camp. By the time Gandalf returned to the group, Oin and Gloin were off to gather firewood, the rest of the company had dismounted, and Fili and Kili were tethering the ponies to the remains of a fence.  

“I do not think it wise to stay here,” Gandalf told the dwarven king, “if we made haste, we could reach the hidden valley—“

“I have told you already,” Thorin responded, “I will not go near that place.”

“Come now, Thorin, the elves could give us a safe place to rest, provide a decent meal, and Lord Elrond could assist us in deciphering the map.”

“The elves have never been ones for offering assistance,” Thorin spat angrily, “when Smaug attacked Erebor, where was the elves’ “assistance?” When the orc armies laid waste to Moria, desecrating our sacred halls, the elves sat back in the safety of their halls and _watched._ How could I ever ask the help of the race that betrayed my father? Who caused my grandfather’s demise?”

“ _Are_ you your father? Your grandfather?” Gandalf asked, crossly, “I did not give you that key and map so that you could continue to live in the past.” With that, Gandalf stormed off, his gray cloak trailing behind him. Bilbo noticed the wizard first, and called after him.

“Gandalf, are you all right? Where are you going?” Bilbo felt fear grip her heart. 

“I am going to seek the company of the only soul here who has an ounce of common sense,” Gandalf replied. 

“And who might that be?” Bilbo’s face had morphed to a panicked frown when she saw Gandalf mount his horse. The wizard gave an angry “harrumph.”

“ _Myself_ , Miss. Baggins! I cannot stand to be around dwarves for a moment longer.” With that, Gandalf galloped away, and was soon nothing but a shadow in the setting sun. Montie walked up behind her sister and hugged her arm. The younger hobbit looked to Balin.

“Is he coming back?” she asked. Balin noted that some of the panic on her sister’s face had leaked into Montie’s normally cheerful expression. Before he could answer, Thorin gave another command. 

“Everyone begin setting up for the evening. Bombur, get started; we’re hungry,” he said, pent-up rage still present in his voice. The company knew better than to question an angry Thorin, and did as they were told. 

When the meal had been prepared and the company served, Montie scarfed hers down quickly and excused herself to the forest, and embarrassedly swatted away Bilbo’s hand when she asked if she needed assistance. 

“I’m just going to get a quick look at some flowers we passed on our way in. I thought they’d look lovely in Daffodil’s mane,” Montie replied quickly as she dashed away. When she was out of sight of the company, she sighed in relief, pulling a shining red apple out of her skirt pocket. She crept over to where Daffodil was situated, far away from the prying eyes of the two princes. 

“Here you are, girl,” she whispered, offering the apple to her four-legged friend, “All you have to do is promise to keep it a secret.” Daffodil’s response was simply to take a large chomp of apple, fuzzy lips grazing Montie’s hand and causing her to give a soft laugh. Yards away, Fili and Kili were locked in conversation, completely oblivious to the young hobbit. 

* * *

 

“I never thought a hobbit lass could have such good aim, did you, Fi?” Kili asked his brother, who was busy sharpening one of his swords with the special stone he’d brought from home. Fili paused for a moment, and sighed in exasperation.

“Ki, why have all of our conversations led back to Montie? I think we’ve more important things to talk about,” Fili looked up at his brother’s confused expression, “like…the way Uncle can’t seem to take his eyes off the _other_ Miss Baggins.” This time it was Fili who did the eyebrow waggling, and Kili let out a short laugh. 

“So you’ve noticed it, too,” Kili smiled, “I’m tellin’ ya, Fi, this is exactly what Uncle needs. A good, sensible woman to keep him happy. He certainly didn’t have many of those when he was our age, especially with the likes of mother for a sister…” Fili rolled his eyes at that, but the smile never left his face.

“Is that the plan, then?” Fili asked a little wary, “Are we playing matchmaker for Bilbo and Uncle? You know quite well how that went the last few times we tried it.” They both shuddered.

“I think my ears are still ringing from mother’s yelling,” Kili mused, “and the back of my head still hurts from Thorin smacking it one too many times.” This time Fili laughed. 

“And once we’ve got a new aunt,” the look Kili gave his brother put Fili immediately on edge, “we can get to work on my new sister. Or—if you never figure out how to talk to women— _my_ new wife.” Even though he knew his brother was kidding, Fili didn’t find it funny in the least. 

“You _wouldn’t_ ,” the older prince stated, his voice low and dangerous. 

“Well…” Kili drawled, tapping his chin, “it would be improper ‘adventure story etiquette’ if I, a devilishly handsome dwarfish prince, were to ignore the fair—and eligible—heroine of our quest.” That did it. Without thinking, Fili dropped his sword and lunged at his younger brother, tackling him off of the rock he’d been sitting on. Kili was laughing the whole time, taunting his brother between dodging his punches. 

* * *

 

Montie could hear some sort of commotion coming from where Fili and Kili were keeping watch, but she chose to ignore it in favor of brushing Daffodil’s mane. She was chattering away with Daffodil and a few of the other ponies, when she heard angry whispers coming from behind her. She froze, not recognizing any of the voices of the company members. Before she could hide herself or even turn to look at what was coming, something large and _sweaty_ covered her completely and lifted her off the ground. From the sounds of a few fearful whinnies, whatever it was grabbed some of the ponies as well. She felt motion sickness creeping up on her as her large assailant began to walk back from whence it came. 

“Put me down!” she yelled, and immediately regretted the decision. All she got for her troubles was a mouthful of that disgusting sweaty smell, and a tight squeeze from the hand holding her, making her feel like her eyes were going to pop out of her skull. 

“Oy! Quiet you!” one of the voices said. It was clearly male. Montie racked her brain for all the information she’d ever read in her mother’s books. _Large, smelly, loud…either ogres, giants, or trolls,_ Montie thought. One of them farted. She tried to hold her breath. _Definitely trolls_ , she decided. A thousand questions buzzed through her head, making her almost forget about the darkness around her. _Almost_ being the key word. She was thankful or the minuscule gaps between the troll’s fingers that let just a smidgen of moonlight in. 

Finally, the combination stomping/swinging motion came to a stop. Montie didn’t know whether to be relieved that she’d managed not to have her supper come back a second time—despite how hungry she was—or to be horrified by the thought of her uncertain fate. 

“C’mon now, William,” came one of the voices, “put them nags down ’n th’ pen. ’N Tom,” the hand holding Montie made a sudden jerk upward, “bring whatever morsel it is ya’ve grabbed up ’n bring it here.” The troll carrying Montie—Tom, apparently—began to walk again. When he stopped, he abruptly opened his occupied hand, and for a moment, Montie was in free fall. She felt terrified and helpless as she plummeted, so it came as quite a painful shock when she met Tom’s other palm with the left side of her body. 

“Look a’ it, Bert!” Tom cheered, sounded like a child, “it’s a wee squirmy thin’! It’s kinda cute! Bet it’s extra tasty!” Montie had to admit, she’d felt a little hopeful when he’d said she was cute, but the word tasty shattered any good spirits she’d had. But, if there was one thing she was good at, it was talking her way out of trouble. 

“I’m actually rather bland,” she stated simply, trying to balance on the slightly damp surface of Tom’s palm, “and, after all this traveling, I’m sure I smell a fright. Not to mention, I haven’t been eating properly since I left home, so I’d assume I’m not up to weight standards.” She tried to sound as casual as possible. Trolls weren’t the smartest of creatures, she knew, so she appealed to the one thing they did like: food. 

“S’never bothered me before,” the third troll came back, “I’d just be gla’ ta have somenthin’ that doesn’t taste like chicken. Again.” He sent a sidelong glance at Bert, who looked affronted.

“Gimme some credit, ya great lump,” Bert grumped back at the one Montie concluded had to be William, “I’m th’ one tha’ does th’ cookin’ ‘round here. Be grateful for what ya have,” William snorted, “Plus, I’ll probably be marinatin’ the wee…lass? Yer a lass, ain’t ya, beastie?” From her position, all the young hobbit could do was give an offended gasp and glare daggers at Bert.

“I can’t wait for th’ boiled nags,” Tom said. Suddenly he began to take sharp inhalations, his shoulders slowly hitching backwards. Montie knew what that meant, it was the universal sign of a—

Before she could complete her thought, Tom sneezed, both his arms shooting out to his sides and flinging Montie along with them. For the second time that night, Montie felt herself in open air, and any thought of getting away was silenced when she collided with a large boulder. She was unconscious before she hit the ground.


	5. Chapter 5

Back at the campfire, Bilbo felt distinctly out of place in the midst of the dwarves’ merry chatter. The tendrils of worry that lingered from Gandalf’s departure had crept back out from the crevice she’d hidden them in as soon as her sister had vanished behind the tree line. 

“I’m going to look for Montie,” she stated, “She’s been gone far too long.” Bilbo stood, trying to seem collected, and made to walk in the direction her sister had gone. Bofur’s sudden grip on her wrist jolted her to a stop. 

“While yer goin’ tha’ direction anyway,” the mustached dwarf smiled, looking into her eyes concernedly, “take these bowls to th’ lads, will ya?” He handed Bilbo two bowls of stew. She nodded, and scurried off in the direction of the princes. When she caught sight of Fili and Kili, they were both standing, staring intently at the ponies. Her concern deepened further.

“What’s the matter?” she asked in the motherly tone she saved for coddling her sister. Kili didn’t look at her when he spoke.

“We’re looking after the ponies, like Uncle said,” he sounded more as if he were trying to convince Bilbo than himself.

“But, we’ve run into a slight…dilemma, of sorts,” Fili continued. 

“We _had_ sixteen ponies,” Kili said.

“Now we’ve only got fourteen,” Fili hung his head. 

“We’ve lost Bungle and Daffodil,” Kili noted. Fili and Bilbo both froze at the name of Montie’s horse. 

“We have to tell Thorin,” Bilbo cried, “Montie came out in this direction earlier, and there’s no sign of her around anywhere.” She was about to take off in a mad dash towards their camp. Fili and Kili grabbed her by her underarms before she could take a step.

“There’s no need to worry Uncle,” Fili laughed nervously. Inside, he was reeling. He hadn’t known Montie was wandering around, and, now that he knew there was something lurking around out there, he liked the idea even less, “Besides!” he exclaimed, “We thought this might be your big chance to put your burglary skills to the test,” Bilbo’s struggling died down at the suggestion, but whether it was out of actual interest or out of fear, they couldn’t tell. They set her down gently. Bilbo turned in a circle, surveying the area. 

“Whatever it is we’re looking for,” she stated, pointing at an uprooted tree in the distance, “It’s big.” The princes nodded in agreement. 

“I think I see a light up ahead!” Kili called, tugging on Fili’s sleeve as he jogged towards the glow in the distance. Fili made sure to get a grip on Bilbo’s forearm before his brother dragged him away. Bilbo was still holding their stew. They scurried over to a fallen tree. 

“Stay down, Fili whispered, crouching and pulling the other two down with him. Kili, rebellious as ever, peaked over the top of their barrier. 

“What do you see? Is it Montie?” Bilbo tried to keep her voice quiet and less hysterical than she was sure it sounded. Kili was stiff as he lowered himself back to the ground. 

“Trolls,” was all he said. Bilbo gasped. She peaked over the top this time, flanked by the brothers, when one of the trolls crossed in front of them a distance away, carrying a pony under each arm. 

“That’s Minty! And my Myrtle! Oh, the poor dear, I hope she’s not too frightened.” Despite her fear for her four-legged friend, Bilbo was more than a little relieved that she didn’t see her sister in the mix. 

“Now’s your chance, while they’re distracted,” Kili said, carefully taking one of the bowls of stew from Bilbo’s hand, “You’re small and fast, more than a match for a few idiot mountain trolls.” 

“We’ll be right behind you,” Fili reassured her, giving her a pat on the back and taking the remaining bowl of stew, “If you need help, hoot twice like a barn owl and once like a brown owl.” Bilbo scowled, eyes glued to the scene in front of her.

“You boys have gone absolutely insane if you think I’m facing a group of real, live _trolls_ on my own. I’m going back to get Tho—“ Bilbo started, but when she turned around to properly scold the young dwarves, they had vanished back towards camp. Bilbo sighed and turned back towards the scene in front of her. 

“Well,” she murmured, pulling her jacket a little tighter around her shoulders, “if you want something done right, do it yourself.” Bilbo began to creep stealthily towards the troll camp, looking for the least sturdy part of the makeshift pen they’d created for the ponies. She felt her heart stop when she heard one of them sneeze. 

“Oy!” the troll by the fire called out, “You’ll get yer snoz in th’ broth!” he whacked the offending troll with his wooden spoon, who gave an affronted “ow!” in response. 

“Go on, ya lazy lump,” the one with the spoon continued, “go get yer tasty morsel. I’d like to start marinatin’ it for th’ pie as soon as possible.” The sneezy troll moved towards a large boulder on the outskirts of their camp, and daintily (or as daintily as a troll could do anything) plucked something off the ground. Bilbo squinted to try and see it in the darkness, but the flash of spectacles and white-blonde hair in the firelight confirmed her greatest fears. They were going to bake her little sister into a pie. 

The older hobbit took a few calming breaths. She tried her hardest to reclaim her Shire-renowned rationality, and look at the situation to come up with the best course of action. _What I need is a distraction_ , she decided. A whinny from the corralled horses gave her an idea. If she could free the ponies and have them scatter about the camp, she may have just enough time—and, hopefully, just enough luck—to save both her sister and the steeds.

She tugged as hard as she could on the knot around the fence, but her hands were too small to undo the rope. She frantically looked around, ducking behind the fencepost when one of the trolls turned in her direction, when she deemed it safe again, she turned back towards the fire, noticing that Montie—still dead to the world—had her hands and feet bound, was tied on a roasting spit, and was being basted with some sort of gravy. If she’d had a weapon, Bilbo would’ve killed them all where they stood. She was brought out of her murderous thoughts when a glimmer caught her eye. 

One of the trolls—by the sound of their conversation, she assumed his name was Tom—had a rather large knife strapped to the back of his belt. Bilbo knew that was her only chance. She crept behind Tom and began to slide the knife from his belt. She thought she heard him break wind. The task was slow (and revolting), and when she was on the verge of tears from frustration and fear, things just had to get worse. Tom began to waver in that tell-tale pre-sneeze way, and poor, unsuspecting Bilbo was standing directly where his hanky was stuffed in the back of his belt. The next thing she knew, the halfling was clutched tightly in one of Tom’s sweaty hands and _drenched_ in troll snot. If she hadn’t been so shocked, she would’ve died. 

“Blimey! Burt, look wha came out o’ me honker! I’s got arms n’ legs n’ everythin’!” Tom squealed, dropping Bilbo to the grass in front of him. The troll called Burt poked her with his wooden spoon.

“What is it?” he mused, moving to poke her again, but Bilbo stood as quickly as she could and backed away from the three advancing creatures. 

“I’m a burglar—“ she began, but caught herself and made a coughing sound, “—hobbit.” 

“A burglar-‘obbit?” Tom questioned, tilting his head to the side, “Wha’s that?

“More importantly,” the third troll added, “can we eat it?” Tom suddenly had a huge smile on his face. Bilbo didn’t like the look of that smile. 

“We can try!” he bellowed, making a grab for Bilbo, who quickly dodged him. Soon, the camp was filled with the frustrated sounds of trolls and the panting of the sprinting hobbit. As she rounded the spit that her younger sister was tied too, Bilbo heard a soft groaning sound. As she passed between the third troll’s—she believed his name was William—legs, she heard her sister frantically yell her name. The older hobbit made a beeline back in that direction, all her attention focused on her gravy-covered sister. When Bilbo the sensation of being lifted again, she knew she was done for.

“I got it!” Tom cheered, looking at the halfling hungrily, “Now we can put two of ‘em in th’ pie!” In her panic, Bilbo began to dither.

“Oh! Oh, no, you’ll not want to eat me, or her, for that matter,” she gestured towards Montie. Before she could continue, Bert laughed.

“We ‘eard that from the little one,” he jerked his thumb at Montie. You’ll not be gettin’ out o’ this that easy.”

“Yeah!” Tom added enthusiastically, “You’re gonna be a pie!” 

“We get it!” Montie yelled angrily, swinging herself in the hopes of knocking the spit from its stand, “Now, let my sister go! Everyone knows I’m the fat one anyway!” Her voice wavered a little and her vision blurred slightly.

“Don’t you start with me, Montbretia!” Bilbo yelled back, “If they’re letting one of us go, it’s going to be you!” The trolls looked between the two sisters with interested confusion. It surprised them all the more when Kili broke through the tree line and slashed at Tom’s shins with his sword. 

“Put her down!” the young dwarf cried over Tom’s pained yelps. 

“You what?” William asked.

“Put her _down_ ,” Kili repeated, slow and dangerous. Montie was impressed. She became less so when Tom threw her sister at the brunette prince. As soon as Bilbo made contact with Kili, the rest of the company rushed into the clearing, whacking and slicing the trolls with everything they had in them. The trolls tried desperately to swat them away, as though they were a swarm of flies come to ruin their picnic.

Montie watched them all with amazement, though her eyes often strayed to Fili, who looked like he was dancing rather than fighting. With her attention completely focused on the dwarves, Montie didn’t notice one of Bert’s hands reaching out to snatch her up. As she was lifted, she saw that Tom and William had each grabbed one of Bilbo’s arms. When her mid-air movement was finished, Montie found that her back was uncomfortably hot. Looking down, she screeched, realizing that Bert was holding her rather close to the open fire. 

“Montie!” Fili cried.

“No!” Thorin roared. 

“Put down yer weapons!” William bellowed, “Or we take off the big one’s arms and make the little one extra crispy.” The entire company froze, glancing between the two sisters—one covered in snot and the other in gravy—and back to William. Thorin had an unplaceable look on his face as he stared at Bilbo’s terrified form hanging between the two trolls. Slowly, the company dropped their weapons to the ground after their king. 

Soon enough, the dwarves had been split up; half of the company, including Bilbo, Thorin, and Kili, were tied up in large bags. The rest of the company had been stripped to their undergarments and were being roasted over the troll’s fire. Fili was among them, trying to catch a glimpse at a freshly basted Montie each time the spit turned. 

“I say we jus’ make it simple ’n squash ‘em intah jelly!” Tom wailed impatiently. 

“I say we eat ‘em raw,” William stated, grabbing the bag holding Gloin from the pile in the corner and holding him over his open mouth.

“Stop!” Montie cried, “Really, you… won’t want to eat him! Not with his full beard! All that hair is bad for one’s digestive health!”

“Oy, quiet, you,” William, snapped, reaching over to thump Montie with his forefinger, causing her rock violently back and forth and black spots to swim across her vision. She felt the dull, lingering pain in the back of her head sharpen, and the wind was knocked out of her. 

“You leave my sister alone, you brutes!” Bilbo began to wiggle vehemently in her sack, finally finding she was able to stand up on her own. In trying to find her focus, she noticed a wizard-shaped shadow moving behind some of the rocks in the distance. “And she’s right! You can’t just eat them raw. Have you smelled these dwarves? You’ll need a very strong seasoning to get rid of that stench.” The dwarves looked affronted and began to shout at Bilbo, but Bert’s voice was louder.

“An’ what do you know about cookin’ dwarf?” he asked, looking quite intrigued with the little creature in front of him. 

“Well, I may have never cooked _dwarf_ in particular, but I’ve made many a beef brisket, and that’s basically the same thing,” the older hobbit said. 

“Well, I never!” Dori piped from his sack, stuffed halfway under Thorin. 

“Traitor!” Dwalin roared from the roasting spit. 

“Nonsense!” William had lowered Gloin from above his mouth, but still held him pinched between his fingers, “I’ve eaten enough raw dwarf in me day that I _know_ they’re tasty even if they stink tah high heaven.” He raised Gloin back above his head again.

“But he has…uh…” Bilbo tried to think quickly, “he has worms!” she cried triumphantly, watching as William’s face quickly morphed from delight to disgust as he tossed Gloin back onto the pile of bagged dwarves, who gave a collective groan. “They all do, in fact! Infested with parasites, the whole lot of them!” Now, all of the trolls looked revolted. 

“Did she say we ‘ad worms?” Oin asked from his sack. 

“I don’t have parasites!” Kili groused at Bilbo, “ _You_ have parasites!” the rest of the bagged company began to yell insults at Bilbo, all except Thorin. She turned halfway and met his eyes, the intensity in her gaze telling Thorin everything he needed to know. He gave Kili a swift kick from inside his bag. The rest of the dwarves in the pile grew quiet as well as Thorin glared at them. Realization dawned upon them, all except Kili.

“What was that for?” the prince cried, but upon meeting Thorin’s gaze, his eyes widened, and his shouts began anew, “I have the biggest, ugliest parasites!” The rest of the dwarves including the ones on the spit, began to take up the call, arguing who’s parasites were larger and deadlier. 

“I’ve got worms as big as me arm!” Oin shouted.

“We’re riddled with parasites!” Nori said

“Absolutely full of ‘em,” Ori added for emphasis.

“Enough o’ your yellin’” Bert growled in frustration, “I might eat ya early, just so you’ll _shut your cake holes_. The little ferrets've been tryin’ tah trick us all night!”

“ _Ferrets_?” Bilbo gasped, offended. Bert reached over to grab another dwarf out of the pile, but he stopped when Tom tapped his shoulder and pointed to a large boulder on the far side of the camp. 

“”Oo’s that?” Tom asked.

“More importantly,” William added, “can we eat ‘im, too?”

“The dawn shall take you all!” Gandalf broke the boulder in half, and the light of the morning streamed through, turning the trolls to stone. A collective sigh of relief sounded throughout the camp. 

“Mind getting us down from here, Gandalf?” Bofur asked from his place on the spit, “I’m startin’ tah feel my dinner come back tah haunt me.” 

“No one’s going anywhere until I check on Montie,” Bilbo snapped, “Montie, sweetheart, are you all right?” She grew frantic when the response was only an incoherent moan. Bilbo wriggled around to situate her feet, and began to hop as quickly as she could towards her sister. She fell on her face more than once, but finally reached Montie’s gravy-coated form. Gandalf began to help the dwarves off the spit. 

“Bilbo?” Montie wheezed, trying to focus on her one of the three versions of her sister in front of her, “Did we win?” Bilbo chuckled to try and hide her nerves, but she lost any composure when she saw the red spot staining the back of Montie’s head.

“Montie, what _happened_?” she asked slowly, concern and panicked tears creeping into her voice. 

“Talking to ponies, grabbed by a troll, thrown against a boulder; you know, the usual,” Montie hated seeing her sister sad, no matter how dizzy she was. 

“I’m just glad you’re alive,” Bilbo sighed, reaching out to stroke here sister’s hair but finding the burlap sack obstructing her hand, “Bebother and confusticate those stupid trolls,” she muttered. Montie giggled, but groaned when it increased the throbbing in her skull again. 

“Montie! Bilbo!” the sisters turned their heads to the sound of Fili’s voice to see the prince sprinting towards them. He skidded to a stop, holding one of his swords up and waving it around a little, “I…I thought you might need some help getting out of your…situations.” His grinned faltered when he noticed Bilbo’s flaming cheeks, small smile, and averted gaze. Any questions he was about to ask were lost when Montie giggled.

“And we’re very thankful for the assistance, though I’d always hoped my valiant prince would be in shining armor rather than his knickers,” Bilbo couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. Fili’s face burned as he looked down at himself, realizing that, like in the nightmares he’d had in the past, he was conversing with a girl in nothing but his underwear. At least he had his boots on. He tried to speak again to hopefully alleviate some of his embarrassment, when he felt a large hand cup his shoulder. 

“I’ll free the halflings, Fili,” it was Thorin, trying for all the world, to hold in his laughter, but a rare smile was clear on his face, “Why don’t you go sort out your clothes?” Fili sighed, thoroughly embarrassed at what had transpired, and sulked back over to the rest of the dwarves. Thorin made a move to free Bilbo first, but she stopped him, a tender look in her eye.

“Please…untie Montie first,” the older hobbit said quietly, “she has a nasty head wound, and I’d like Oin to get a chance to look at it as soon as possible.” Thorin saw the worry in her eyes as she spoke, a worry that he knew all too well. He’d felt it multiple times that very night, watching his closest friends and nephews almost lose their lives, watching Montie hanging over the fire, watching as Bilbo hung in the grip of two trolls, snot-coated and trembling…

Thorin cut himself off, nodding to Bilbo and using his dagger to slice through Montie’s restraints, cradling her gently as he lowered her to the ground. 

“Thank you,” the young Miss Baggins whispered to him, looking up at him with more gratefulness in her eyes than he had seen since his nephews were young. Speaking of his nephews, the cacophonous clatter of metal-on-metal signaled Fili’s return. The young dwarf was hopping towards them, still trying to stuff his other foot through the leg of his trousers. Thankfully, he was unarmed. 

“Fili, please stay with the Miss Montie while I assist Miss Baggins,” Thorin said, noticing immediately the happiness that lit up the young prince’s face. Fili saluted. 

“Yes, sir!” he chirped. Thorin rolled his eyes and made to free Bilbo. 

“For the record,” she stated as the King Under the Mountain began to undo he knots on her sack, “I’m sure dwarves and beef brisket taste nothing alike.” That warranted a half-smile and a snort from the dwarf king. Bilbo took that as a positive sign. Once the knot was untied, Bilbo shimmied out of the bag, and Thorin tried desperately to ignore the way her honey-colored curls danced around her head, despite her being used as a pocket handkerchief. 

“Thank you again,” Bilbo said, smiling radiantly at him, “I’ll be going to get Oin for Montie…though it seems Fili’s taking excellent care of her.” Both looked over at the younger two, and the older Baggins and the dwarf king smiled simultanously. Bilbo, in her haste to get to the company’s healer, made to step over the folds of the sack around her feet, but ended up getting tangled and falling directly into Thorin. He wavered only slightly, and Bilbo was a bit taken aback by how solid he was. _Like an oak tree_ , she laughed internally. He gripped her arms with a tenderness she hadn’t expected, and lifted her off his chest, placing her gently back on her feet. The two were locked in a stare-off, and Bilbo was blushing too furiously to notice that Thorin was too. Before she could say anything else, he was off being the king again. 

“Wizard, I have a question…” Thorin trailed off, walking away from Bilbo and towards Gandalf. She sighed, and began her search among the scattered dwarves for Oin. 

* * *

 

 

Fili came clambering back towards the Baggins sisters as soon as he’d had some article of clothing on. Unfortunately for the prince, Thorin had already cut Montie down from her hanging position—effectively ending Fili’s hopes of heroism—and was kneeling next to her. When his uncle left him and the hobbit to themselves, Fili plopped down next to her, still trying to catch his breath from his run over. 

“Looks like Uncle beat me in the hopes of becoming your savior,” he stated, trying for a joking tone. Montie gave a weak laugh and attempted to sit up and say something, but stopped when she felt another sharp jolt through her head. Fili caught her before she flopped back down, and gently propped the hobbit up against a one of Tom’s now-stone legs. 

“Would you mind helping me up, Fili?” she rasped, “I’d like to get some water and see how everyone’s fairing.” Fili nodded, smiling internally. He knelt down next to her, placed one arm under her knees and the other around her back, and easily hoisted her up. She whimpered a little and leaned her head against his chest, letting her arms drape loosely around his neck. He blushed and stiffened, but grew concerned when he noticed the red staining her cornsilk hair. Fili decided a distraction was in order.

“So, since you’re what I’d call the company’s official storyteller, why don’t you explain to me exactly how you came to be covered in gravy?” He glanced down at the hobbit in his arms, noticing she had a small smile on her face. 

“Well, if you _must_ know,” she said wryly, straightening out her surprisingly unharmed spectacles, “I was snatched up along with a group of the ponies, manhandled by a troll with some sort of sweaty-palm problem, and ‘accidentally’ flung into a boulder. They must’ve basted me while I was unconscious.” Fili chuckled.

“If it makes you feel any better,” he gave a deep sniff, “you smell absolutely delicious. Probably would’ve made an excellent pie.” Montie slapped his arm weakly. 

“Flattery will get you nowhere, you highness,” she grinned, tightening her arms around Fili’s neck. They walked on in comfortable conversation as Fili caught her up on what she had missed while knocked out. Oin called them over as the two reached the conglomerate of dwarves. 

“Let’s ‘ave a look at ya, lassie,” the old dwarf said, gesturing to a large rock next to him. Fili’s somewhat confident gait began to falter as he noticed Bofur, Kili, and even Ori smirking at him. Once Fili reached where Oin had suggested, he went to set Montie down, until he heard her murmur his name. He looked down at her, brow furrowed, as she leaned up as much as she could and kissed him on the cheek. 

“Thank you, my gallant prince,” she whispered, laughing softly. Fili’s face flamed.

“You-you’re welcome,” he managed to choke out as he gently set her down on the rock, waiting to fully release her until Bilbo scurried up and took hold of her sister. The older hobbit gave Fili a grateful smile. Fili gave a small bow and trotted back towards where he left his swords, mind reeling with the thought of what her kiss could mean. Likely it was just out of gratitude, a friendly kiss in thanks for a good deed. Not to mention, she did seem a little out of sorts. There was that rather small but persistent portion of his mind, however, that held onto the preposterous idea that she harbored some sort of romantic feelings towards him. As he bent to retrieve his weapons, checking them over again for scratches or chips, he was startled by the sound of a clearly male voice making a weak attempt at sounding feminine. 

“Oh, Fili, my handsome prince, let’s forget about this quest and run away together, living out of the woods and talking to animals!” Fili raised his head as Kili stepped daintily into his line of vision, resting his head dreamily against his clasped hands. 

“Oh, Montie!” Bofur ran up to Kili, one arm stretched outward and one over his heart, like he was about to begin a serenade, “If only I could form a coherent sentence around ye! But, alas, ’m too busy blushin’, stammerin’, and runnin’ around in my underwear!” Fili’s face was bright red. 

“Well, if you won’t dwarf-up,” Kili-turned-Montie sighed, placing the back of his hand against his forehead, “I can always marry your strikingly handsome, ever-so-charming younger brother.” Fili was about to charge the two and beat them so badly they’d wish they’d been dinner for those trolls, but a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned and came eye-to-chest with Dwalin. When the prince met the warrior’s eyes, Dwalin gave him a barely noticeable smirk. 

“Those idiots make a valid point, Fili,” the larger dwarf said, his voice a surprisingly soft rumble. “Grow a pair and speak to her properly. Balin’s a good talker; he may be able to give ye a lesson or two on how to talk tah girls. Or try Bombur, or Gloin. One of th’ married blokes.” Fili’s eyes widened. Sage advice from Dwalin, of all dwarves, was rare, and it was practically nonexistent—as far as he knew—when it came to troubles involving girls.

“Thanks, Master Dwalin,” Fili responded, flashing his most winsome smile at the warrior. Dwalin merely grunted in response. That was all Fili could hope for. 

* * *

 

Oin examined Montie top to bottom while the rest of the company—minus Bofur and Kili, who “decided,” after suggestion by Dwalin, that they should keep watch—proceeded to hunt for the troll horde in the nearby caves. The older dwarf gave an exasperated sigh as he wrapped a cloth lined with some damp herbs around the young hobbit’s head, frowning a little each time she hissed in pain. 

“There we are,” he said at last, stepping back to admire his handiwork, “now tha’ yer all bandaged up, I suggest the two o’ ye lasses find a stream to clean yerselves off in. Ye both smell like ye were dragged through th’ Ered Luin sewer drain.” Both Bagginses wrinkled their noses simultaneously, and the healer gave a chuckle. “If ye want, I’ll send fer Gandalf so he can keep watch,” both pairs of eyes widened, “not in tha’ way, I can assure ye!” Oin corrected quickly, putting his hands in front of him in defense. “I’ll be right back!” And with that, Oin disappeared, leaving the Baggins sisters alone with the youngest heir of Durin’s line and the amiable toymaker, both of whom let their bottoms hit the grass as soon as the healer had left. 

“So…” Kili began, failing at casualty, “If the two of you don’t feel like waiting for Gandalf to get back,” he put an arm around Bofur, “you’ve two strapping young—“ he looked at Bofur sidelong, “—ish dwarves to make sure all your lady affairs go off without a hitch.” Bofur glared at the younger dwarf, throwing Kili’s arm off from around his shoulders with a grumble. When the two looked back towards Montie and Bilbo, both hobbits’ faces were bright pink. Montie was wringing her hands in her lap, and Bilbo was trying to think of something to say. 

“We didn’t mean it like tha’!” Bofur tried to placate the sisters, “Wha’ the _genius_ ,” he whacked Kili over the head, “was tryin’ tah say, was tha’ we’d be more than willin’ tah stand a _respectable_ distance an’ let ye ladies ‘ave the time ye needed to get freshened up an’ all tha’.” Kili was still muttering and rubbing the back of his head. Montie glanced up at the dwarves first, catching Bofur’s contagious smile, and then turned to look at her sister. Bilbo was totally red now. 

“Bilbo,” Montie cooed to her sister, placing a hand on the older hobbit’s arm, “take a deep breath. This isn’t Hobbiton, and your reputation isn’t going anywhere if you take a bath in a river.” Bilbo cracked a slight smile at that, and, grabbing the hand that was on her arm, stood from the rock.

“Very well,” she said in her most dignified Baggins voice, “I know I saw a stream somewhere up ahead, I just need to grab my soaps from my bag. Come along, everyone, we’ve got to make this quick, or I’m sure Mister ‘Grump Under the Mountain’ won’t be pleased.” Her response was a chorus of laughter. 

Kili, for all his mischievous tendencies, was a true gentleman, offering to carry both sisters’ packs to the stream, and setting up a watch perimeter for himself and Bofur that was far enough away that the hobbits wouldn’t feel uncomfortable, but close enough so nothing could sneak past either dwarf. 

“All right now,” the elder Baggins began once their modesty patrol had set off, “we’ll keep our slips on _just_ in case, but this will give us an opportunity to wash our clothes as well.” Montie nodded, and Bilbo helped her sister remove her layers of clothes without jostling her head bandage too much. The two then waded into the water as quickly as they could, thankful to find that it wasn’t ice cold. They washed their clothes out first, leaving each garment to dry in the sun on some nearby rocks. Each took their bar of soap and began to rinse their hair. Montie laughed when she saw the slight change in the water’s coloring from the gravy she’d been covered in. Both froze when they heard a rustling from a nearby bush. 

“We told you we’d holler when we were finished, Kili!” Montie shouted a tad angrily, giving the bush a glare. It rustled again, and she only grew more furious. “Don’t think I won’t tell your uncle. Or your brother, for that matter,” Montie had her hands on her hips, looking and feeling more like Bilbo than she’d ever care to admit. Thankfully, the third rustle of the bush produced a hedgehog, and both sisters sagged in relief.

Bilbo clambered out of the water quickly and motioned for her sister to follow. “I’m done with these close calls,” the older hobbit said, giving her skirt a few shakes to dry it as much as she could. 

“Agreed,” Montie nodded, doing the same with her waistcoat. Neither sister had finished putting on any single article of clothing—though their shifts had completely dried—when the felt the ground begin to rumble. Bilbo quickly moved closer to her sister, determination set on her brow. Montie was already wounded, and she wasn’t going to let _anything_ near her sister. 

The rabbit-powered sled that shot out from the woods was not at all expected, and elicited two high-pitched screams of terror. Bofur and Kili were there in an instant, weapons drawn and ready for battle, and were soon followed by the rest of the company. The sled had come to a stop by a tree near the stream, and an older man in brown robes hopped off the back. All the dwarves had been transfixed on the sled as they had approached, but, after Gandalf cheerfully acknowledged the stranger as the brown wizard Radagast and walked off with him, things got…well, awkward was putting it lightly, in Bilbo’s opinion. 

Ori, observant as ever was the first one to turn back to look at the hobbits, but the choking sound he emanated and the shade his face took when he noticed the sisters’ state of undress drew the company’s attention towards the young scribe. He then proceeded to pass out. 

“Ori!” Dori wailed, rushing over to his younger brother, “what’s got you in such a—“ Bofur crammed in one appreciative whistle before Bilbo released the loudest roar any of the company had heard outside of a battle with orcs.

“I _beg_ your _pardon_!” Bilbo’s blush seemed to cover her completely, as did her sisters, though they tried their best to cover up with their full skirts. The entirety of the dwarves turned twelve different shades of red. 

“Avert yer eyes, lads!” Gloin bellowed, “Show some respect to the maidens an’ some restraint to yerselves!” Montie didn’t think she’d heard that many forced throat clearings in all her years. All of the dwarves turned away in various degrees of shame and embarrassment. 

“Thank goodness we decided to keep the shifts on, huh?” Montie whispered to Bilbo as the younger hobbit stepped into her skirt. Bilbo sent her sister a disapproving glare. Montie rolled her eyes. 

“Okay, we’re decent, you may all turn back around,” the older hobbit gave the official order and watched with carefully concealed amusement as many of the company members visibly lost tension in their shoulders. 

“We’re mighty sorry, lasses, for catching ye in such a state,” Balin, ever the mediator, was the first to speak, giving both the sisters a slightly mortified smile, “though, to be honest with ye, we’re not at all sorry for coming to protect ye. For all we know it could’ve been—“ 

A howl sounded not far off. They all tensed up again. 

“Wargs,” Montie said it before any of the others, though she’d never seen a warg in person. Somehow, she just _knew_. She really wished she didn’t. The two wizards reappeared from behind a cluster of trees. 

“I can buy you some time,” Radagast offered, stepping back onto his sled. Thorin frowned. 

“How do you expect to outrun an orc pack with a sleigh pulled by—“

“Rhosgobel rabbits,” Montie finished, tiptoeing close to a few of the creatures and giving the team leader a scratch behind the ears, “The fastest breed of rabbit in all of Middle Earth.” Radagast perked up at that, and observed the young hobbit with interest, until his brow creased in confusion.

“Young lady,” he asked, “are you, by any chance…” the wizard never got to finish his statement as another howl sounded, this time, much closer than the first, and his startled rabbits took off in a sprint. 

“Everyone, run!” Gandalf yelled, leading the company out of the wooded area and onto the open glenn. The dwarves stuck close, forming an unconscious perimeter around their two female members. All the running was making Montie’s head throb. When the group stopped under an overhanging rock, something metal was thrown at Bilbo’s feet, and the dull, metallic thud made the older hobbit leap backwards into Bifur. Thorin scoffed.

“We found this in the troll horde,” Gandalf explained quickly, “and I thought it would be best if you were able to defend yourself.” Bilbo picked up the sheathed sword—though, from Gandalf’s perspective, it was likely more of a dagger—and resolutely tied the belt around her waist, unsheathing the sword and holding it in front of her. Montie stared wide-eyed at her sister. 

“What? You’re not the only one who got use out of mother’s library,” Bilbo shrugged, flipping a bit of hair over her shoulder. Gandalf peered around the boulder for any signs of approaching orcs and, seeing none, he ordered the group to continue their sprint. Halfway between rocks, Montie had begun to fall behind due to the increasing pain in her skull. She was trailing just a bit behind Ori and Bifur—each of whom were trying to help her keep moving. She stumbled, and before she could regain her footing, something gripped her pack and carried her in perpendicular to the company’s path. 

“Montie!” Ori cried, his doe eyes wide and panicked. 

“No!” Bilbo’s scream came next, shrill and full of absolute terror, and she took off after her sister’s attacker, sword raised and ready to strike. Thorin just missed grabbing her shoulder to pull Bilbo back, and, in his panic, barely noticed Fili and Kili sprint past him as well, Fili wielding his swords and Kili nocking his first arrow. Soon, the entirety of the company was chasing the warg that held their young hobbit tight in its clutches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, everyone! I know I just threw a ton of chapters at you all at once, and I do apologize, but I'm just getting a chance to post these. The next chapter is in progress currently, and will be up as soon as possible!


	6. Chapter 6

Montie remained surprisingly calm for a creature being carried in a warg’s mouth. Her mind was reeling in an attempt to concoct _any_ kind of escape plan. She craned her neck as much as she could to see behind her captor when she heard another chorus of howls. The entire company was chasing her, but none of them seemed to notice the rest of the orc pack closing in. Only then did she panic. She knew that if the dwarves didn’t try to dispatch some of their pursuers, the entire company would be warg chow. 

A tidal wave of emotions roared through Montie’s pounding skull, and her frustration for her own situation and worry for those of her sister and friends began to grow. Soon, it seemed, those emotions began to pulse through her veins. The young Miss Baggins felt something growing in her chest, and, despite it’s newness, the sensation was comforting. She _was_ shocked, however, when her hands began to tingle, and she saw what looked like pale blue sparkling flames flicker in her palms. 

The orc riding her warg captor snarled something in black speech, eyeing Montie with a wicked smile on its face. The young hobbit’s anger flared, and so did the substance in her hands. The blue light shot from her palms and blasted a small hole into the ground beneath the warg, grazing its toes in the process. The beast yelped and tripped, releasing Montie and her pack in the process leaving Montie, once again, flying through the air. She was starting to grow rather tired of this, she decided, as she felt her bag slip off her shoulders. 

She let out a frustrated yell and wished to all the Aule that she had wings. All of a sudden, something that felt strangely similar to pulling a comb through knotty hair rippled across her back, and her free-fall came to an abrupt halt. Montie panicked for a moment, kicking her legs and flailing her arms as she seemed to simply _float._ There was a delicate humming sound that she realized was coming from _her_. She was _flying._ She had _wings._  

_Oh, Yavanna,_ she thought, _how much more bizarre can this day get?_ Montie had no time to ponder her answer as the cries of her friends reached her ears. She looked at her hands—still sparkling bluish-white—and felt determination course through her. Willing herself as best she could, she flittered quickly towards the company, who, in the meantime, had become surrounded by orcs and wargs. Gandalf was nowhere to be seen. 

“Look out!” she called when she was close enough, hoping and praying that she wouldn’t accidentally strike one of her friends with her…well, Montie guessed she should call it _magic_. They young Miss Baggins didn’t have time to study the reactions of the dwarves or her sister. All she could do was encourage them to keep fighting as she tried desperately to control her flight patterns and drive the wargs away. Just as a gap opened up and the amount of living assailants had declined, Gandalf appeared from behind an outcropping of boulders.

“This way everyone, quickly!” he gestured with his staff, and the company took off in his direction, still fighting off wargs as they went. Fili kept an eye trained on Montie as she fluttered above them, still launching…whatever it was she was launching at the remaining wargs and orcs that dared to follow them. He could see that she was starting to droop a bit, slowly sinking closer and closer to the ground. But, before he could even contemplate going to help, he felt a familiar rough grip on his upper arm as he was yanked down through a small passage under the rocks. He glanced back at his uncle, who gave him a quick once-over and a concerned look. The prince gave him a nod in return, and the King Under the Mountain’s scowl softened. Fili took inventory of the rest of the company, counting off heads until he noticed a very familiar one missing.

“Ki!” he called, not seeing his brother’s boots at the mouth of the cave. Fili tried to run back up the slope, but Thorin’s iron grip remained on his arm. 

“Let me go!” Fili snarled. He tugged again and Thorin only glared at him, though his uncle’s gaze held more concern than malice. Soon (though it felt like years, in Fili’s opinion), Kili, Bilbo, Montie, and Gandalf, skittered down through the passage, Gandalf urging them to move the moment his feet hit solid ground. The company shuffled down the path rather quickly, leaving Fili little time to get a good look at his younger brother or the two hobbits.

When the walls of rock that lined the sides of the narrow walkway opened into a cliff face shrouded by a waterfall, Fili could hardly contain his astonishment. The landscape was beautiful in the afternoon sun, and the prince couldn’t decide what to look at first. That was until Thorin spoke up.

“You…you _traitor_ ,” he seethed at Gandalf. Thorin had released his nephew’s upper arm and stormed towards the wizard with a glare sharp enough to kill a man. “I told you what I thought of the assistance of elves, and now you will have me go to their door and plead for shelter and protection? We are leaving. Now.” The entire company voiced their agreement, and began to walk in the path they’d just come from. Bilbo—of all beings—was the one to stand in their way.

“I have had just about enough of this foolish talk,” she snarled. Thorin stopped short when he saw the hobbit, her face and clothes stained with blood. “We are in desperate need of protection, food, and rest, and, in case you’d forgotten, there’s an entire orc pack out there just itching to sink their blades into us. But, most importantly,” the hobbit stepped forward, getting dangerously close to Thorin’s face, “my little sister is wounded. And, Yavanna help me, if any of you confusticated dwarves stand in the way of Montbretia getting the medical care she needs, I will not hesitate to pile your carcasses with the ones I left back on the field.” 

Not dwarf moved. The only sounds that filled the space around the group were the rushing of the nearby waterfall and Bilbo’s heavy breathing. Thorin had been too busy listening to her furious ranting to notice how close she was to him, but now that he did, he fought down the urge to pull her even closer. He reluctantly tore his gaze from Bilbo’s hazel eyes to the bloody “sword” in her hand, and finally, to Gandalf, who was cradling a whimpering and pale Montie in his arms. The dwarven king internally cringed when he noticed the fresh red seeping through the bandage on the younger Baggins’s head. At last, Thorin let out a defeated sigh.

“Lead the way, wizard,” he stepped aside, and glared at the rest of the company to do the same. They reluctantly complied, and the dwarves, wizard, and hobbits made their descent into Rivendell. 

* * *

 

“Mithrandir,” came a soft voice from a young—though age was hard to tell with elves—stately elf who descended the stairs to the courtyard where the company waited, weapons at the ready in case of any emergency, “I am most pleased to see you here.” Gandalf smiled.

“Lindir, my boy, so good to see you, though I do wish it were under more pleasant circumstances,” he tipped his chin to Montie, who had gone practically limp in his arms, “We are here to see Lord Elrond, to seek his council and his renowned healing skills for our youngest companion.” Lindir’s eyes widened sightly when he noticed Montie’s wings spilling over Gandalf’s arms. 

“Well—I,” Lindir cleared his throat and was about to begin again when he was interrupted by his father.

“Mithrandir, it’s wonderful to have you back here, and to your companions, welcome to the Last Homely House,” Lord Elrond had a congenial smile on his face, though it faded slightly when he noticed Montie, “though it seems that you are here on more than just a casual visit. I will take the _pîn heruin_ with me to the healing rooms.” Elrond moved to approach the wizard, but paused when the company moved in front of Gandalf, wary expressions on their faces at the thought of Montie being taken from them. 

“Out of the way! All of you!” came a shout from the middle of the bunch. The elf lord’s eyes widened when he saw Bilbo push her way through the group of dwarves and clear a path for Gandalf.

“You agreed to come here to get Montie help, so step aside and let her be helped!” she huffed as she reached where Elrond was standing, brushing some stray curls from her forehead. Elrond noticed some tears in her eyes as well. He placed a gentle hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and smiled softly when she looked up at him. 

“You must be the daughter of Belladonna Baggins…Bilbo, if I remember correctly?” Bilbo offered a quick smile, but her face quickly morphed back to its previous state of nervousness.

“It’s a pleasure to meet a friend of my mother’s—really and truly it is—but I am much more concerned with my sister’s welfare so if we could get a move on to those healing rooms you mentioned earlier I would be most grateful, my lord.” Thorin stiffened at the hobbit’s use of ‘my lord’ to address an _elf_ of all beings, and moved to follow Bilbo and Elrond—who had relieved Gandalf of carrying Montie—but the wizard’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. 

“I believe it best, Thorin,” Gandalf begin, “if we leave Elrond to examine Montie on his own, rather than having to weave through a mass of worried dwarrows.” Thorin shook his shoulder free, and turned back to face the company. 

“We have guest quarters available for your use, if you’d follow me this way,” Lindir piped up from his place on the stairs. A chorus of grunts answered him, along with a smile and a ‘thank you’ from Gandalf, and the entire company thundered up the stairs behind the elven prince. 

Thorin’s eyes were still locked on the Baggins sisters and the elf lord, whose forms were retreating in the direction opposite of the dwarves. The dwarf king had never seen Bilbo so upset in the time they’d been together—even when the dwarves had shown up uninvited to Bag End—and it made him more than a little uneasy. Thorin had wanted nothing more than to reassure her that everything would be just fine, to hold her close and to comfort her, and then send both women back to their Shire, where they would be safe from the horrors of this world. He’d seen more than he ever hoped Bilbo would. He wanted nothing more than to have her keep the constant sparkle in her eye and the happy smile on her face.

He was shaken out of his thoughts when he caught his nephews out of the corner of his eye. Kili had his hand on his brother’s shoulder while Fili wore a nervous frown and looked only at his boots. Thorin sidled up between the two, placing an arm around each of their shoulders and giving a squeeze.

“I’m sure our young storyteller will be just fine,” he reassured them, using the same voice he did during a thunderstorm when they were dwarflings, “but for now, I need the two of my best warriors to be on high alert,” he looked around conspiratorially, “I still don’t trust these pointy-eared traitors.” Both princes perked up a little at their uncle’s words, and broke away from him with grateful smiles when they were directed to their rooms. Thorin gave the elf servant who pointed out his quarters a disapproving frown and stalked past him, taking extra care to bump the lad with his shoulder as he did so. The King Under the Mountain threw his pack into the corner or the room and slouched down in the nearest chair as the door closed behind him. He had a lot to think over, even if he couldn’t really relax in the home of an elf. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter's a tad short, but I think it's full of enough satisfying surprises for now. More explanation to come later!
> 
> Also, a little Sindarin for you! 
> 
> pîn heruin: little lady


	7. Chapter 7

Bilbo stood quietly in the corner of the healing room as Elrond leaned over her sister, examining the little hobbit—no, Montie _wasn’t_ a hobbit, and Bilbo had to remind herself of that. The older Baggins felt her head begin to swim and her vision to blur. This was her _sister_ she was talking about! She had grown with her, raised her after their parents passed, and through all the years they’d spent together, all the secrets and stories and crushes they’d had, how could Bilbo not have known? 

She hadn’t realized her legs had given out beneath her until she felt willowy arms holding her steady. Bilbo gazed blearily up at Elrond’s concerned face and tried desperately to push herself to her feet.

“How…how…” Bilbo took a deep breath, “Is my sister going to be all right?” the elf gave her a small smile, gently lifted her up, and deposited her in a chair she hadn’t noticed before. He sat in one opposite her, proffering a cup of what smelled like chamomile tea. Bilbo briefly remembered the quick swirls of servants’ robes and the light closing of doors. She frowned at her obliviousness as she took the teacup from Lord Elrond’s hand, not even bothering to say “thank you” as she poured the desired amount of cream and sugar. 

“Montie will be just fine,” the elf said in his most reassuring voice, “she is simply in need of rest and lots of it.” Bilbo sighed only half of the tension out of her system, and waited for Elrond to elaborate more on her sister’s condition. When he did not, Bilbo steeled herself and asked the question she’d been dreading.

“…What is she?” the hobbit watched the elf across from her expectantly, nerves rattling as he simply sipped his tea with a contemplative look on his face. 

“We had thought their race extinct, wiped out by orcs years ago, but it seems she somehow avoided the incident—“ Bilbo slammed her cup on the table, though not hard enough to damage it in any way. Elrond raised his eyebrow in silent alarm.

“Your sister is a fairy, Miss Baggins, of one of the eastern forest glens, though I am not sure which one, since she was too young to receive her ceremonial coming-of-age tattoos,” the elf lord explained, “which—if my judgment is correct, and this is the first time you have seen her wings or magical attributes—would have been just about now. Has she shown any affinity for plants, water, or animals perhaps?” Bilbo felt like she’d been hit in the gut with a conkers mallet.

“Animals,” she said meekly taking her teacup carefully in her hands, “she’s always had an incredible gift for dealing with them. It’s almost like she can understand them…” Bilbo’s eyes widened and she looked up from her tea to meet the brunette elf’s eyes, “ _Can_ she?” Elrond simply smiled and confirmed her suspicions with a nod. 

“Yavanna in heaven,” she breathed, glancing back at the bed and smiling slightly, “this sure explains a lot.” Elrond took a sip of his tea.

“Now…you said you knew my mother?” Bilbo asked, watching his expression brighten.

“Indeed I did,” he responded with a far-away smile on his face, “she visited my halls often on her adventures, and always brightened our days with her quick wit and fiery personality. How is she, if I may inquire?” The hobbit’s smile faltered slightly.

“I am sorry to say, my lord,” she began, “but my mother passed on about forty years ago, as did my father. It’s just been Montie and me since then.” Elrond’s smile drooped. 

“My condolences,” he stated in a less-jovial tone, “she was a wonderful woman, and a good friend. And, from what she told us about her husband, he was a hobbit of fine character.” The two sat in silence until a soft groan came from the direction of the bed. Bilbo was immediately on her feet and rushing to Montie’s side, gently clasping her sister’s hand. The younger Baggins burbled a little before opening her eyes, staring incredulously at her sister’s smile. 

“Was I flying earlier?” she asked, “And shooting magic…stuff out of my hands?” Bilbo smiled softly at her and nodded. Montie’s eyes widened. 

“Whoa…” she smiled a bit, “that’s pretty cool.” She glanced behind her sister to see Lord Elrond, “You’re an elf, aren’t you?” The elf chuckled.

“I am Lord Elrond. Welcome to Rivendell, little fairy,” he said congenially. Bilbo looked back at him incredulously, not believing he’d just drop this kind of news on her sister as casually as if he was discussing the weather. 

“ _Bilbo_ ,” Montie chided, “don’t give him _that_ look. He’s an elf _lord_. And besides,” she stated casually, “I was going to find out anyway.” Both the elder Baggins and the Lord of Rivendell glanced at each other and then back to the young fairy, who had shifted to a sitting position. 

“My head feels a lot better, by the way,” she smiled gratefully at the brunette elf, “thank you very much, your lordship.” Elrond smiled and gave a bow.

“It was my pleasure, Miss Baggins,” he stated, “though, I must inquire, how did you receive such a blow to the head?” Both Bagginses rolled their eyes and smiled. 

“For that story, Lord Elrond,” Bilbo said, “you’ll want to be sitting down.” 

* * *

 

The hobbit, fairy, and elf spent the rest of the afternoon trading stories. Elrond mainly spoke of Belladonna’s visits to Rivendell, which the sisters were very eager to hear about. He had just finished a story about the time Belladonna had scolded the elven historian regarding her incorrect facts about the nature of hobbits when a roaring growl emanated from the younger Baggins’s belly. She blushed in embarrassment. 

“Your stomach must work hand-in-hand with the sun, Montie,” Elrond said, looking out the window at the low-hanging sun, “Dinner will be served soon. I will take the two of you to your rooms, where you will be able to freshen up. An escort will arrive in an about an hour’s time to retrieve you.” The sisters nodded their thanks and followed the elf back the way they had come. 

The rooms they were given were grand an enormous—and not just because everything was elf-sized. They each went to their separate bathing rooms, where each had a tub of warm water and scented oils waiting for them. After they had a chance to _really_ bathe—not the hasty and embarrassing bathing they’d done that morning—each Baggins noticed a beautiful set of hobbit-sized elven robes and dresses waiting for them. Montie’s were a very pale green, while Bilbo’s were a pearlescent lavender. The dresses scooped low in the front—but tastefully so, Bilbo thought—and both Montie’s robe and dress had spaces for her to fit her wings through.

The sisters met up again in the larger sitting room connected with their bedchambers, and Montie couldn’t help but notice the look of pure bliss on her sister’s face. She hadn’t seen Bilbo looking so absolutely _radiant_ …probably ever, if she thought about it. The young fairy took in her surroundings, and, noticing an enormous arrangement of flowers on one of the tables, got a wonderful idea. She strode over to enormous vase and began to pluck out the blooms that would look best in her sister’s hair. Bilbo seemed to catch on joined her. Soon enough, Bilbo was sat on a stool as Montie braided blossoms into her hair. A comfortable silence surrounded the two, and for the first time, Montie thought of how she missed Bag End. 

By the time the escort Elrond promised—Bilbo was shocked as he introduced himself as Elohir, one of Elrond’s sons—came to retrieve them, Bilbo’s hair was woven into a crown and a loose braid with beautiful white blooms, while Montie sported the same style with blue flowers instead. As they approached the doors to the grand dining room, Bilbo found she was terribly nervous. She couldn’t quite place why, but flashes of ice blue eyes pulsed in the front of her mind. The doors began to open, and as Elohir made an announcement of their arrival, Bilbo quickly grabbed her sister’s hand. 

* * *

 

Bilbo and Montie’s arrival at dinner was unexpected by the entire company, but the real surprise came when the sisters practically floated into the dining room in elven robes and gowns. Kili was taking a sip of wine and began to choke violently. Gloin had to pat him on the back until he stopped. Gandalf looked elated, relief etched onto his features, as he descended from the high table where Elrond and Thorin sat. The dwarf king didn’t even notice the wizard had moved until he slightly blocked Bilbo from his line of vision.  

Thorin couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Though he did not like the idea of her in elvish clothes, he could not deny that she looked striking. And that _smile_. He had to refrain a love-struck sigh. Her green eyes sparkled with glee when Gandalf approached, and her round, rosy cheeks brightened with a happy blush. When the thought came that he’d like nothing more than to kiss that smile, he had to shake his head. _Don’t even think about it,_ he scolded himself internally, _you’ve nothing to offer her, and so far, all you’ve done is brought her suffering and fear._

Little did the future King Under the Mountain know, but a set of midnight blue eyes had been watching him almost as soon as they’d entered the room. Montie gave a secretive smile and squealed internally. She had noticed Thorin’s affinity for her sister since the journey’s beginning, and, frankly, she was elated. He seemed to be a decent match for her sister’s strong personality, though Montie knew in an instant that with a well-placed bat of her sister’s eyes, the gruff dwarf would be putty in Bilbo’s hands. A slightly devious smile played on her lips. She had now dictated her (second) position in the company: matchmaker. 

After their brief conversation with Gandalf, Elohir escorted the sisters to the long table where the rest of the company sat. The young elf pulled out Montie’s chair for her, placing her just across from Fili. Montie smiled back at Elohir and thanked him, and the elf smiled and nodded, a faint blush on his cheeks. Fili didn’t seem to notice—he was too enraptured with the vision in front of him—but Nori did. He was always good at seeing things that the others didn’t. He decided to let the lad have his moment, though. If the young elf showed any more signs of interest in their young Miss, he’d be sure to let them all know. Once Bilbo had been properly seated and Elohir had taken his leave, the comfortable chatter between the dwarves began again. 

“Don’t you two look like absolute gemstones!” came Dori’s voice from farther down the table, where he was situated across from Bilbo, “Both as beautiful as a summer’s day.” Many of the dwarves voiced their agreement with Dori’s compliments, causing both sisters to blush. Bofur nudged Bilbo’s shoulder from his spot on her left.

“Don’ be so modest, lass,” he told her, “ya look like a queen. At least, it seems, th’ king thinks so.” He gestured with his head towards the high table, and Bilbo’s eyes trailed over to Thorin, who was watching her intently. As soon as he noticed the hobbit’s gaze on him, he blinked a few times and turned his full attention those seated around the high table with him. She blushed all the more. 

“Looks like you’re doin’ much better, Montie,” Bombur said, noting the lack of bandage around her head, “It’s good ta see ya up ’n smilin’.” At his comment Montie only smiled bigger, and self-consciously pushed her glasses a little farther up her nose. 

“I’ve got to say, lass,” Balin commented, “we are all still a might confused about what exactly happened out there.” The rest of the conversation—and complaints of lack of meat—around the table lulled again as the company looked expectantly at Montie. She gulped, but straightened her shoulders. 

“I’m a fairy,” she stated simply, trying to hold in her calm, “and, according to Lord Elrond, I have just officially come of age, which is why my wings and magic made such an unexpected first appearance.” Dwalin’s fork clattered to the table and the entire group went silent in shock. 

“But I thought fairies were only in, well…fairy stories!” Ori piped from next to his oldest brother, who was still trying to feed him a spinach leaf. He pulled out his large tome and began muttering something about changing a fact sheet. Montie smiled as calmly as she could and tried to meet everyone’s eyes. 

“I can assure you, up until now I thought that as well,” she paused when her eye’s reached Fili’s. He gazed at her in a cross between amazement and…something else. _There’s no way_ , she thought to herself, _don’t even dare to hope for that. He’s your_ friend, _and there’s nothing you can do to change that…even if you really wanted to._

“I hope this doesn’t change how any of you feel towards me,” she stated meekly, staring at her plate. There was hardly a full moment of silence before Kili spoke up.

“Are you kidding me?” he protested loudly, “This is great! I still can’t believe you can _fly_! Can I see your wings?” he sounded like an excited child, and the stillness of the company was replaced with fond smiles and laughter.

“Well, how ‘bout it, lass,” Nori said, raising a braided eyebrow in silent challenge, “this is your moment to be a bit of a show-off. The food’s not worth eatin’ anyway.” Dori glared at his brother for his bad manners, but Nori just shrugged him off.

“I’m not sure if this is the best place for this,” Montie responded, noting her sister’s nod of approval, “we are guests at a banquet, after all.” Bifur said something in khuzdul.

“Bifur’s righ’ lass,” Bofur said, “you’re not doin’ anythin’ extra special. You’re jus’ bein’ yerself.” A chorus of agreement came from the dwarves around the table. Montie was still nervous, but one look at Fili’s encouraging smile from across the way was all she needed.

Politely as she could, Montie stood from her spot and made her way to an open area in the dining hall. She felt everyone’s eyes on her—including all the elven servants—as she took a deep breath and, with all of her strength, willed herself _up_. It took a moment, but soon she could hear that soft buzz again and feel her new appendages moving. A collective gasp rose from her companions as well as all the elves present. Kili was smiling so big Montie thought he’d split his face in half. 

“That’s _amazing_!” the young prince cheered. He stood and rushed over to his friend, plate still in hand. “But,” he continued, “will you be able to DODGE FLYING FOOD?” Kili began pelting his dinner at Montie, who shrieked in laughter and tried her best to evade the onslaught of vegetables. Soon, the others joined their youngest prince, and the blonde fairy had to fly higher and higher to avoid soiling her gown. 

The dining hall was filled with roaring laughter. Even Bilbo—who had disproved of Kili’s idea since the words left his lips—was chuckling softly at the scene. After the past few days they’d had, she never thought she would hear her sister laugh again. When the company had finally run out of leafy projectiles, Montie made her surprisingly graceful descent back to the floor. She wavered a bit when her feet first hit the floor, but Fili immediately had a hand on her arm to steady her. Montie turned towards him and gave a slightly bashful smile. 

* * *

 

When they had been “dismissed” from the banquet hall, the company set themselves up in the Baggins sisters’ sitting room, complete with some rabbits they had managed to capture roasting over a fire on the balcony. The entire group of them, including Thorin, sat around the fire drinking ale, singing songs, and making merry. The air around them was filled with laughter and a palpable joy, something none of the dwarves expected would happen while they were in an elf’s home. 

Montie was standing a little farther off, relishing in the warm feeling that radiated off her companions as she leaned on the balcony railing, alternating between watching the dwarves and watching the moon. It was full that night, and she couldn’t help but admire the stars that shone around their mother. Fili had been watching Montie for most of the evening, though he hadn’t said a direct word to her yet. When he noticed that she was finally _truly_ alone, he made his way over to her. 

“I never got to actually ask you,” he began, “how are you feeling?” Montie jumped a little at the unexpected noise, but turned to give the prince her signature smile. 

“Much better, thanks to Lord Elrond,” she said, “I don’t what in Arda he gave me, but I can barley even feel a scar where my cut was.” She brought her hand to the spot on her head and moved her fingers along the stripe of raised skin. Fili sighed in relief. “You were very brave out there today,” she continued, “fighting the wargs, I mean. And the trolls. You almost…” she trailed off and looked out to the forest around them. The blonde prince unconsciously put his hand on top of one of hers. Montie met his eyes again with a slightly shocked expression.

“Go on,” he said softly, “almost what?” Montie steeled herself to answer him. 

“You looked like you were dancing,” she said quickly, looking back down at her hands as soon as the words left her lips. “It was beautiful to watch.” Fili grew slightly nervous and more than a little embarrassed by her compliment. But, he hated not being able to look into her eyes when they spoke, so he pushed past his fear and gently squeezed her hand.

“It’s an ancient art, sword dancing,” he told her, “one that many young dwarrow warriors are taught almost as soon as they can walk.” He felt his heart swell when he noticed the fascinated look in her eyes. “It takes practice, that’s for sure,” he continued, “but once you master the steps, it’s a lot like the dancing you showed us that first night around the fire.”Fili suddenly got an idea. He didn’t think he’d ever been more proud of his subconscious. “I could teach you the basics, if you’d like.” He took pride as joy lit her deep blue eyes. 

“ _Could_ you?” she asked eagerly, “Or, is it more like khuzdul, and it’s some big, dwarven secret? Because, if it is, I don’t want you to get in trouble with your uncle…” Fili noticed her deflate a bit. 

“I swear on my beard, your hide and mine are perfectly safe from the wrath of the King Under the Mountain,” he proclaimed, bringing his hand to his heart. Her distinct lack of giggle was a bit unsettling, and when he looked down, he realized why. The hand he’d placed on his chest still clung to hers. Montie’s face was bright red, though her lips were curled into a positively gleeful smile and her eyes were overflowing with—it couldn’t be, it simply couldn’t. 

_You’re disillusioning yourself again,_ he thought, _she’s too…too_ everything _for you, you moron._ But, despite the prince’s belief that he’d never have her as his own, he would not turn down the opportunity to teach her to sword dance. He brought their clasped hands down to his side, and leaned in to whisper to Montie. 

“We’ll go to the courtyard by the pond to practice,” he began, “so there’s more room to move and we won’t disturb the others.” Fili began to walk around the gathering of dwarves, but Montie’s lack of movement stopped him in his tracks. He turned to face her, confusion weighing down his brow. However, all confusion faded and a warm feeling settled in his gut when he noticed the adorably _devious_ smile she was giving him. While his wits were scattered across all of Arda, Montie tugged hard on the blonde dwarf’s arm, pulling him practically flush against her. He had to crane his neck slightly to look into her eyes. The reflection of the firelight on her glasses drew him like a moth to a flame. 

“I’ve got a better idea,” she murmured, “just hold on tight.”  Before Fili could even get a sound out, he felt both Montie’s small arms wrap around him, and he began to feel weightless in more ways than one. He looked down hesitantly and noticed that he and the blonde fairy were flittering over the balcony now, and Montie was slowly steering them over the edge of the railing towards the courtyard below. As much as he trusted the younger Baggins, he clung to her tightly, burying his face in her hair as they began their descent. 

The heir of Durin tried his hardest not to shudder as he took in the delightful scent of his companion’s cornsilk curls. They smelled like jasmine, if he was correct. But, he found he didn’t mind if he wasn’t. He was just elated to be close to her. Fili was so caught up in his Montie-induced bliss that he hadn’t noticed they’d touched down—which meant he was still clinging tightly to her. 

“Fili,” she said softly, not wanting the moment of warmth and joy to end either, “we made it to the ground. You can let go now.” The haste with which the prince removed himself from her sent a wave of disappointment through Montie, but she tried her best to look unfazed. Of course he wouldn’t hold feelings for her _,_ she thought. But she almost dared to think he could, especially when he (inadvertently) placed her hand over his heart. It was the symbol of ultimate devotion in hobbit culture, but there was no way he knew that. She wished more than anything that he did. 

Fili cleared his throat. “All right,” he stated, “I’ll stand in front of you and do a basic sword step, and then you repeat what I do. Okay?” Montie nodded. The prince moved to his position. “Right, then.” Fili thought back to his beginner’s training with Dwalin, trying to figure out what step would be easiest for Montie to learn. 

“This is a basic counter step,” he told her, “bend your knees slightly, and do as I do.” Fili began a series of steps, trying to go as slowly as he could. When he finished the movement, he turned to face his student. “Now you try,” he said encouragingly. Montie looked at her bare feet for a moment, bent her knees, and did exactly what Fili had shown her. When she completed the step, she met his eyes expectantly. He nodded his approval. She smiled, and the prince’s heart melted. 

Time passed quickly, and Fili was once again astonished by Montie’s proficiency in arts she really should know nothing about. Hobbit life would always be a mystery to him, he decided. They had progressed on to more complicated steps, and the one he’d just demonstrated seemed to be giving the bespectacled fairy some trouble. Without thinking, Fili came to stand behind her, gently grasping her wrists. 

“Stand on my feet,” he murmured close to her ear, “that way I can show you exactly how the step goes.” Montie gulped and her face burned, but she did as she was told. The prince began to shift his feet in their proper directions, and his student seemed to be catching on. Until she sneezed, of course. Fili hadn’t expected such a loud sound to come out of such a small creature, so, in his startled state, he toppled backwards, tripping Montie up in the process. The heir of Durin fell on his back with an “oof,” and the company storyteller came tumbling after him, landing chest-to-chest with him on the floor of the courtyard. When they met each other’s eyes, the duo erupted into a fit of giggles. 

Fili was the first to speak once he’d regained his breath. “Bless you,” he said simply, finally noticing how close their faces were. He turned pink. Montie noticed as well, and had a similar reaction.

“Thank you,” she replied softly. Their gazes stayed locked for what felt like ages, giving Fili some time to think things over. How had he become so attached to Montie in less than a month? There was so much to like about her, he knew that, but this was something deeper…something grander. It came to him when she whispered his name. She was his _One._

Fili's mind raced. That was the only way to explain it! His mother had taught him about what it meant to find his One when he and Ki were young. Lady Dis explained that the Valar had created some of their children of the same soul stock: Two beings who, alone, were whole, but, together, were something _more._  She said the connection between a being and their One was immediate, but the two would likely need a little push to fully discover their bond. These thoughts all flew through his brain in the matter of seconds between Montie’s mention of his name and the sensation of her lips on his. 

The prince’s brain was simultaneously set on fire and thrown into a frozen lake. 

She was _kissing him!_ His _One_ was _kissing_ him! _Montbretia Baggins_ was kissing _him_! All his excitement, however necessary, kept the prince from doing one important thing: kissing Montie back. Because of this—though she felt as though she could fly to the moon without her wings—the fairly pulled back, utterly humiliated. She knew he didn’t feel the same for her, but she let herself get caught up in the moment, and they’d been having so much fun and… _And nothing,_ she told herself. The fairy's movement, woke Fili slightly from his dream-like haze. That was when it hit him. How could he be so _stupid?_

Montie was mumbling some sort of apology as she shifted off of the blonde dwarf, but he was having none of it. He wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her back to him, and cradled her cheek in the other. Carefully, he leaned up and kissed her. Her shock was brief in comparison to his, and she was immediately kissing him back, moving one of her hands off his chest to tangle it in his hair. He growled and smiled into the kiss, and fireworks went off in his mind when he felt her do the same. A soft breeze on the arm around his One’s waist indicated that her wings had begun to flutter as well. 

Both fairy and dwarf knew that they would be content to stay where they were forever had they not heard Balin’s voice from the balcony above, asking after the older prince. The two shot up from where they still lay on the ground, wrapped in each other’s arms. Montie pulled him close again, and gave him a cheeky smirk as she began to carry them back upwards. _Mahal knows where she gets this strength from_ , Fili thought, though he couldn’t complain. He almost liked the feeling of being wrapped in her arms more now than he did before. 

The prince’s and the fairy’s eyes were locked again—midnight blue and the blue of an ocean—and Fili couldn’t help but kiss her again, which only caused her to fly faster. Neither noticed when they appeared above the railing of the balcony, locked at the lips in front of the entire company. 

“ _Montbretia Baggins_!” came Bilbo’s affronted voice, cutting through the gasps and cheers of the dwarves, “What in all of Arda do you think you’re doing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dear readers! Once again, I apologize it's taken me so long to update. Things have gotten hectic. But, I hope this longer than average chapter makes up for it. AND LOOK AT ALL THE CUTE! I couldn't take it anymore, and had to have our favorite fairy and dwarf finally get together. But, fear not, there's much more to come. Thank you for being patient!


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